


The Boy from Privet Drive

by mieraspeller



Series: The Extended Evans Family [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, American Wizarding World - Freeform, Background Character Death, Family, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter is raised by others, Kidfic, M/M, Magic, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mieraspeller/pseuds/mieraspeller
Summary: When his Aunt and Uncle are killed in a car accident, Harry is sent to live with his next of kin.
Relationships: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Series: The Extended Evans Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572919
Comments: 34
Kudos: 394





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blink and you’ll miss it cameo from Good Omens solely to solve the Horcrux Problem. I did not put Aziraphale/Good Omens in the tags since it’s literally three paragraphs. 
> 
> A mishmash of canon and made up magic and magical places. If there are any other tags I ought to add, please feel free to let me know. 
> 
> Unbeta’d.
> 
> ETA: “I condemn JK Rowling’s recent transphobic, inaccurate, and dangerous statements on sex and gender identity. If you agree with her views, please do not read, comment on, or kudo this fanfic. I support the rights of transgender people to be called by their chosen pronouns, respected in their expression of gender, and treated fairly and equally in all things.” -@copperbadge

Harry always enjoyed the infrequent occasions that the Dursleys left him at home alone. They had gone out to celebrate the upcoming dinner with some higher up in Uncle Vernon’s company. Harry didn’t think that was much to celebrate, but he wasn’t going to complain. Even Hedwig was gone, off with a letter to Ron, so he had the house to himself. Not that anyone would write him back anyway, he thought bitterly. They hadn’t all summer, and it was already halfway through July. 

He’d already finished the chores he’d been assigned, and made himself a sandwich, and was whiling away time trying to pick the lock on the cupboard with one of Aunt Petunia’s hairpins. 

He really didn’t want to be the only one at school that didn’t do his summer homework. 

Shortly after the hall clock chimed seven, he winced, a sudden pain blooming behind his right eye. He swayed and groaned, and had to sit for a while with his head down until the dizziness passed. 

“Ugh,” he groaned, clutching a hand to his forehead. He’d certainly dealt with dizzy spells before, but he wasn’t in the least hungry or thirsty for once, and still fairly healthy from ten months of good meals. Still, when he felt fine - better than, actually, a few minutes later, he shrugged and went back to picking the lock. 

The phone rang just as he heard the first tumbler click, and Harry regretfully left off to answer. 

“Dursley Residence, Harry speaking,” he said politely. 

“Son, this is PC Davis. Is there an adult around?” 

“Um…” Harry floundered. He knew the Dursley’s would get in trouble for leaving him home alone, but if  _ they  _ got in trouble, so would he, so… “My babysitter is in the loo,” he invented. “I was too sick to go out to dinner.” 

The PC paused, before saying, in a very gentle voice. “Just sit tight, we have a social worker headed to your house now. I’m afraid your relatives were in a car accident. Her name is Teresa Allendale, and she’ll have an ID so you’ll know it's safe to answer the door,” he promised. “She’ll explain everything.” 

Harry rang off, puzzled and little - just a very little - relieved. Perhaps they’d send him to stay with the Weasley’s for the summer if they were injured. Or Hermione had invited him to stay, after she got back from her hols, that would be just as good. 

The clock in the hall chimed the half hour. 

  
  
  
  


Harry spent the time waiting for the social worker finally,  _ finally _ , getting the lock open. After a moment of indecision, he grabbed his wand first, grinning at the familiar warmth spreading over him, and then began rifling through his trunk for his school books. 

Before he’d done more than grab his History text, the doorbell rang. 

“Dragon dung,” he muttered, something he’d heard McGonagall say once in reference to one of the Weasley twins’ pranks, and hurriedly closed up the cupboard, only pocketing his wand. 

Harry opened the door the two inches allowed by the chain lock. “Hello?” 

A man in all white, with white blonde hair and a friendly face smiled at him. “Harry Potter?” 

“Er, yes?” 

“I’m Mr. Fell,” he said. “Ms. Allendale was unable to make it but,” He held up a little card that Harry studied for a few moments before wordlessly opening the door. There was a thick feeling that passed over him as he did so, and Harry blinked, before peering up at the man suspiciously. 

“The police officer said the Dursleys’ were in an accident.”

“Yes. I’m afraid your uncle was driving over the limit and hit a tree. He and your aunt both passed on. Your cousin is in hospital, with his aunt - a Margaret Dursley?” 

“Oh,“ Harry said, stunned. 

“Don’t worry, your next of kin will be here shortly,” the social worker said with a kind smile. He was wearing white, old fashioned clothes. He made Harry a pile of sandwiches and a cup of tea which Harry ate and drank in a daze. 

It wasn’t until he’d finished his last sandwich before he thought to question: “Next of kin?” If his Aunt and Uncle were dead, Harry figured he was going to be sent to an orphanage, like Aunt Marge had always urged Uncle Vernon to do.  _ She _ certainly wouldn’t take him in. 

Mr. Fell consulted a large, thin, dusty looking book. “He is... your first cousin once removed on your maternal grandfather’s side,” he said. 

Harry frowned. Maternal meant mum’s side, and Aunt Petunia had never mentioned any other relatives. And his grandparents had died when his mum was still in school.

“He’s American,” Mr. Fell continued and Harry only grew more confused. “And he should be here…” He paused, then said, “Right now.”

There was a knock on the door.

The social worker opened the door, revealing a man on the stoop. He was tall, with dark hair that looked as untameable as Harry’s, sunglasses, and a wicked leather jacket. 

“Auror John Sheppard,” Mr. Fell greeted, and the man took off his sunglasses and gave Mr. Fell a long look. Harry wondered what an ‘Auror’ was. 

“Yes… how did you know?” the man asked. He looked rather tired, and now a bit suspicious. 

“One picks things up over the years,” Mr. Fell said airily, and smiled congenially. “Now, Harry has all his things together, and you ought to get a move on before a certain wizard realizes what’s happened.”

Harry looked between the two of them in bewilderment. “You both know about magic?” He said in a near whisper. 

“Peripherally,” Mr. Fell said. “So to speak. Yes, that is.” 

Mr. Sheppard raised his eyebrows at Mr. Fell, before turning back to Harry. “I’m a wizard.”

“You  _ are _ ?” Harry asked eagerly. Then he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “But - everyone said my mum was a Muggle-born! Are you really her cousin?” Harry asked suspiciously. Okay, Mr. Sheppard did have sort of green eyes, but otherwise he didn’t look much at all like the photos Harry had of his mum.

“He is who he says, but - I’ll let you two have a moment. No more than five!” Mr. Fell insisted, backing up a step under their combined glares. He trotted off to the kitchen. A moment later, Harry could hear him banging around with the kettle. He turned back to Mr. Sheppard, crossing his arms. 

Then, with a sudden attack of nerves, he backed away a few steps, asking, “How do I know you’re really who you say you are? People have tried to kill me before.”

Mr. Sheppard’s mouth tilted down, before he reached into his cloak and drew out something that looked a bit like a Muggle police officer's badge. There was a moving photo of the man, along with his name, badge number, and “Auror, First Class.” Then a plain looking wallet was retrieved, and he pulled out a well worn photo and handed it Harry. There were at least twenty people in it, lined up a bit like a school photo in rows. Except it moved, just like the wizarding photos he had. 

“Are these all… Mum’s family?” Harry asked, staring at the photo of his mum standing arm in arm, laughing and jostling back and forth with another red headed girl. He could tell just by looking they were family. Pale skin and red hair from reddish blonde to dark auburn was prevalent, as were green and blue eyes - a smattering of the the same chins, the same noses, even the same ears- and there was a boy with dark messy hair who could be Mr. Sheppard below, falling off the stool he was sat on and then scowling and crawling back on in a loop. He looked around Harry’s age. Harry stared at the photo for another long moment, drinking in the sight of so many people - wizards and witches - related to his mum. Related to  _ Harry.  _

“You can keep it,” Mr. Sheppard told him, when Harry reluctantly held it out to him. “My mom and your grandfather were siblings, and most of the Evans are wix,” he said. “Uncle Richard was wizardborn, he moved to Britain in the fifties for a job, I think, and met your grandmother Rose. I don’t know why you were told Lily was a No-Maj born.” 

“Wix? Wizardborn? No-maj born?” Harry asked, then said quickly, “Sorry, Mr. Sheppard, is it okay if I ask questions?” 

He smiled. “It’s fine. Call me John, please, and you can ask whatever you want. No-Maj borns are first generation magic users. Muggleborns, here. And Wix is a gender neutral term for witches and wizards. Wizardborns are people who are born to magical parents but can’t direct magic with a wand. I think they call them Squibs here,” he said with a grimace. 

“Oh,” Harry said. If most of his mum’s family were magical, that explained why Aunt Petunia didn’t talk about them. But it didn’t explain why she wouldn’t have asked someone else to take him, as she had never made a secret of the fact that she didn’t like him living with her nice, normal family.

Harry unexpectedly felt his eyes sting and start to water. “Why didn’t you come before?” Before, when he’d been stuck year after year with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, with no hope of escape, until he got his Hogwarts letter. And then that was spoiled, too, with the whole ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ and Voldemort mess. He crossed his arms tightly and stared at his  _ cousin _ in challenge.

“We tried,” John said, shoulders slumping. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We tried. It was - when your mum and dad died, I was only fourteen, but my mother and her cousins all went to England to try and fetch you. But you were already gone, and by the next morning, they had come home, confused as to why they’d gone. When we were at home, we were far enough away,” he said, “but whenever we would get even as close as France, we couldn’t remember you even existed. Powerful wards,” he muttered, sounding angry. “We tried No-Maj routes, but there were no records of you, and we tried sending letters and calling Petunia, but she -“ he stopped abruptly, jaw clenching. “We knew from the family book that you were alive. As soon as the wards fell, I came straight here.” 

Mr. Fell came out of the kitchen and looked between them, smiling brightly. “Everyone happy, then?”

Harry stared at him, incredulous. He had  _ so many  _ questions. But the very first, and most important was: “What now? Am I going to live with you in America?”

“I’d like for you to live with me, but there’s also my grandparents, and some more distant cousins, if you’d rather. We’re a bit spread out over the country, but we visit often.”

“Alright,” Harry said, squaring his shoulders. As much as Harry was nervous, John seemed like he was telling the truth, and he was family, and those two things together had never really happened for Harry before. He watched as John signed the papers the strange social worker presented him with. The pen let out sparks after the last signature, and the paper rolled up on it’s own, and split into two - no, it made a copy, one of which disappeared, and the second which John put into his jacket pocket. 

“It’s a long trip,” John said, glancing at Harry. “Better hit the head.” When Harry just looked at him in confusion, Mr. Fell clarified, “The WC, dear.” Harry’s face flushed hot and shuffled off, slowly. He was pretty sure they just wanted to talk about him without him around. 

He paused in the hallway, but they were talking too quietly for Harry to hear, so he hurried back to use the washroom, hoping he’d hear something useful on the way back. Besides, if it was a long trip, like John had said, he didn’t want to make him mad by ignoring his first direction. 

When he got back, John’s face was red, and he mumbled something about using the toilet, then left the room. Harry sat down on his trunk to wait. He twisted his fingers and fiddled nervously with the hem of his shirt. John seemed nice, but Aunt Petunia could pretend to like Harry when she was in public, too. He pulled out the photograph John had given him, 

As he did so, Mr. Fell came over and knelt down in front of him. 

“I promise that you’ll love living with your cousin,” he said, so seriously that Harry suddenly quite believed him. He tapped Harry’s forehead, right on his scar, and Harry shivered. The slight headache he’d been feeling all morning faded away, and he suddenly felt much calmer. Mr. Fell smiled again, then handed him a business card. “If you need anything at all, you can call me. Anytime, all right?” 

Harry nodded, and then let out a shout of surprise and jumped to his feet when Mr. Fell just disappeared into thin air. John ran back in the room, wand at ready.

“What happened?”

“He just disappeared!” Harry exclaimed. 

“Ah,” John said. “Sounds like he Apparated.” 

Harry blinked. More magic stuff he didn’t know about. “What’s apparated?” 

“One of the ways wix get around,” he said, sounding a bit distracted. He waved his wand, and Harry’s trunk began shrinking. Harry stared in horror, until John said, “Don’t worry, it’s just a shrinking charm. Easier to travel this way.” 

“You promise?” Harry asked anxiously. All the things he owned were in there. John said another spell, and his trunk was back to full size. 

“Go ahead and check,” he said. Harry gave him a quick look, then did just that. Everything seemed fine, and he let out a sigh of relief, before backing away so he could shrink it again. Harry slipped the trunk in his pocket and clutched his broom tightly, resolving to learn both the shrinking and unshrinking spells soon.

“Are we going to, to apparate to your house?” Harry asked. 

“Too far,” he said, pulling a broken pair of spectacles out of his pocket and holding it out. “Portkey,” John explained. “I had it made when I arrived at your Ministry _ . _ ” 

“What’s a portkey?” 

“Oh,” John said. “Well, it’s another type of travel magic. You cast the spell on an object,” he waved the spectacles, “and then the object will take you wherever you want to go.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Magic is brilliant,” he breathed. “This will take us all the way to America?” 

“This will take us to the British Ministry, and I’ve booked us a spot on the International Portkey to DC. From there we’ll take another portkey to Denver, then San Francisco, then we can apparate home - my place is in San Francisco. Probably two or three hours, altogether.” He held the spectacles out to Harry.

“Wait!” he exclaimed. Harry pulled his shoulders up. “You don’t know everything though,” he said in a shaky voice. “There’s an evil wizard called Voldemort, and he wants to kill me, and Headmaster Dumbledore said he would come back. And he already tried to come back a couple months ago. He might hurt you if I live with you.” He looked up at John, who’s expression shifted so many times, so quickly, that Harry could barely read him. “That’s why he said I had to live with Aunt Petunia. Because my mother did some magic that meant I would be safe from evil wizards while I lived with her because of her blood.”

“I’m a blood relative of your mother, so if that’s the case, it should work for me, too,” John said. Harry relaxed slightly. John looked like he was taking Harry seriously, but not like he was going to send him somewhere else. “Let’s see — “ he raised his wand and said a long stream of Latin. Harry watched as a ball of light formed in front of the tip of his wand, then shot up through the sealing. 

“Hm.” He flicked his wand and there was a loud thump, a crunching noise, then a battered old trunk came hurtling down the stairs. Harry squeaked and dived out of the way of the runaway trunk, but it stopped just at the bottom of the steps. Another twist and the trunk popped open. On top a folded blue blanket was a letter, which made John mutter something like, “Crafty old bastard.” 

Harry looked at him curiously. 

“The wizard who left you with Petunia sealed Lily’s sacrifice with a blood bond charm,” he said, then reached out and picked up the letter. He shuddered slightly, and Harry fancied he could see sparks where his fingers touched the paper. “There, that should do it.”

“He didn’t even ask?” Harry demanded. “He just put it on the letter, so she didn’t have a choice?” 

“Hey,” John said, and Harry looked at him. John looked very serious. “Nothing gave her any right to treat you the way she did. And  _ I  _ had a choice.” 

Harry looked down, hastily wiping his face. “Okay. Can we leave now?” 

There was a long pause, long enough that Harry looked up to see what had happened. 

“One last thing,” John said, before raising his wand. “I, John Evans Sheppard, swear on my magic that I have never and will never support the wizard called Voldemort, and that I will protect Harry James Potter to the best of my ability. So mote it be.” He cast a shower of sparks then raised his eyebrows at Harry. 

Eyes wide, Harry said, “What was that?”

“A binding magical promise. If I break it, I’ll lose my magic. And probably die,” John added far too glibly, as he shrunk the second trunk and slipped it into his own pocket. “So, I’ve got to hang around and protect you. Okay?” He held out the portkey again. 

“Oh. Um.” Harry swallowed and nodded, still slightly dazed. John had sworn on  _ his magic  _ to protect Harry. And he might get killed for helping Harry. Or  _ not  _ helping him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and blinked a few times before nodding. “Okay. I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited for grammar, please let me know if I missed anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Magical travel was the _worst. _Harry had to put his hands on his knees and breathe for a few minutes so his breakfast didn’t come back up after experiencing the horror of _Side Along Apparition._

“You’ll get used to it,” John told him, handing him a potion vial. It settled Harry’s stomach and made the world stop spinning. He still felt rather bruised from the first portkey trip, before John had explained the trick on how to keep upright. 

“Is all magical travel like that? Portkeys and apparating?” Harry asked. Now that he wasn’t about to sick up, he took the time to look around. It was early morning again, and they seemed to be in a back garden, with outdoor furniture, and no grass whatsoever, which Harry was a bit relieved to see.There was a tiny greenhouse in the middle of the space, and then the back of a house painted bluish-gray. 

“Pretty much. We trade speed for comfort,” John said. “Well, this is the backyard. Come on, inside,” he said, gesturing at a door on the back corner of the house.

The inside of the house was very nice. Less formal than Aunt Petunia’s house, and even though it looked nothing like it, it sort of felt like Hogwarts. John showed Harry around, through a living room with a big cabinet and squashy looking sofas, and a fireplace that actually worked, and a bedroom that was about the size of the one he’d stayed at on Privet drive. There was also a bathroom on the ground floor. Harry peered through the front doors, which were glass but had decorative iron protecting the outside, with strangely wrought designs in the bends of metal. He only had a moment to look at it before John directed him up the staircase. Oddly, the kitchen and dining room were on the upper floor, along with two more bedrooms. 

“You can have whichever bedroom you prefer,” John said. “And I know this sounds weird, but for the blood wards to take quickly, you have to declare this your home.” 

Before Harry could respond to that, he led him over to the other fireplace in the upstairs living room, which just had a couch and chairs and coffee table. The table had a small stack of post and a chessboard in mid game. The mantel over the fire had a small clay jar sitting on it, and Harry gave him a suspicious look as John explained how to throw magic powder on the fire and then shout out the name of a place before jumping in - into the _fire_ \- but nodded agreeably. Then John gave him an actual paper list of places to go through the fire, in case of an attack. Harry felt his eyes go wide at that, but he was a bit cautiously pleased that John seemed to take seriously the possible danger having Harry around could cause. 

“So, which bedroom should I put your trunk in?” John asked. 

After a few minutes of deliberation Harry decided on the larger bedroom on the upper floor, right next to John’s room - with a covert glance at John to make sure he’d actually meant his offer. 

“Sounds good,” John said then waved his hand for Harry to lead the way back down the hall. “Come on, it’s set up as a guest room now. You need to make it _yours_.” 

Harry preceded him nervously to the doorway of his new bedroom. It was plain, painted white, with wood floors, and a double bed with matching nightstands and dresser. One of the nightstands had a clock on it, and the other a small lamp. There was a chair and a floor lamp in the corner next to a small bookshelf, and mirror hung over the dresser, with a strange abstract green and blue painting over the bed. 

“We could do a loft bed?” John mused. “We’ll get you some posters and things, and put a desk underneath, so you’ll have room for your stuff. 

“Er...” Harry said. “That sounds fine.” 

John gave him a look, then said, “Okay. If you don’t like it, we can change it easily enough,” he said, before pointing his wand and floating over everything but the bed and the small bookshelf. All the other furniture, including the lamps, clock and the wall hangings, shrunk as they came nearer, until they were the size of doll furniture. 

“Hang onto those,” John said, and Harry caught them, marveling at how tiny and perfect they were, then looked up in astonishment as the bed rose higher and higher, until it was several feet off the ground. It spun until it fit just in the far corner of the room and stuck to the wall right just level with the window next to it. The legs on the bed broke off and floated up out of the way. Two of them then shivered and shifted into a heavy rope that ran from the ceiling down to the corner of bed that wasn’t touching a wall. 

“Wicked,” Harry exclaimed. John smiled, but he wasn’t done - the bookshelf, which was the sort with only sides and shelves, and no back, moved then, settling right under the foot end of the bed. It stretched until it was nearly as wide as the bed, with only a gap of about a foot between the edge of the shelf and the wall, then grew up and up until it hit the bottom of the bed. There was a strange sucking noise as it all settled together. The other two bed legs stretched and flattened before floating down to fill in the gaps left between the original shelves, but he could still easily see the space under the bed. 

Then the dresser hopped out of Harry’s hands and floated over to the wall across from the bed, followed by the mirror, and both went back to normal size. One of the nightstands was next, sliding into the corner under the bed and growing taller and wider until it was the size of a desk. Then the chair, sliding under the nightstand-desk. The second nightstand floated into the air, again, the legs detaching, and settled high on the wall, stretching out to cover the two feet of space left above the window between the bed and the far wall. The wooden legs morphed and split, zooming over to fill the gap left between the wall and the bookshelf. Harry realized suddenly that they were forming a ladder to get up onto the bed. 

Last, the desk lamp and the clock went to the night stand on the wall, while the floor lamp joined the desk and chair under the bed. Suddenly, all Harry was left holding was the painting.

John looked at Harry. “What do you think?” 

“It’s brilliant!”

“No changes?” 

Harry looked at John carefully to gauge his sincerity. “Could… could there be a railing around the bed?”

“You want magical or physical?” John asked easily. 

Harry let out a very quiet sigh of relief, before saying, “Physical, please.” 

John nodded, and then a wooden block flew into the room from the hall. It was transfigured into a long net, and stretched out along the length of the bed, attached from ceiling to frame between the wall and the rope at the corner of the bed. “That work for you?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” Harry beamed.

“Cool. _Permanens mutatio,_” John said, and the whole constructed bed shuddered, and went still. Harry glanced at John, and he waved him ahead. He ducked under the bed, poked at the desk, and the shelves, then climbed the ladder up to the bed and turned to grin down at John. 

“Was that all transfigurations? We’ve only done switching spells, and turning mice into snuff boxes.”

“Snuff boxes?” John asked eyebrows raising. “That's ... interesting. And it was a combination of charms and transfigurations. Most of which I learned in school.” He gestured back at the room. “Okay, any particular color you’d like?” 

“Red and gold,” Harry said promptly. 

“Gryffindor,” John said with an eye roll, but a wave of his wand, and the sheets on the bed were golden yellow, and the comforter Gryffindor red. The fabric of the chair turned red, as well, and the walls went to a pale golden yellow. 

Harry bounced, grinning happily. “I love it!”

“Trunk?” 

Harry took his toy sized trunk from his pocket and held it out, and John floated it down to the floor. Another wave of a wand, and it was back to normal size. 

“I’ll let you unpack, and then we can talk. I’ve got to call in and finish up some paperwork,” John said with a half smile. Harry climbed down and followed him curiously, watching from the hall as he went over to the fire, and tossed the magic powder into it. The flames turned emerald green, and then he watched in astonishment as John stuck his head into the fireplace! He stared until it was clear that John wasn’t being burnt up. That floo network thing really worked, then. But he still watched for another minute, just to be sure, before the lure of his new room finally drew him away. 

The clock on the nightstand said it was twelve thirty, which made him squint for a moment, until he remembered time zones. He checked out the closet, which was the only thing John hadn’t magicked. It was mostly empty, except for a few boxes on the shelf, and a bunch of hangers. 

He opened his trunk, debating for a few minutes, before deciding he would take all his Muggle stuff out and leave his school things packed - just in case. John seemed nice, but Harry had had bad experiences with supposedly trustworthy adults, even discounting his Aunt and Uncle. 

After he put his Muggle clothes in the dresser, took a bit of parchment and his last unbroken quill over to the desk. He would write - 

“Hedwig!” he said in dismay, then clapped a hand over his mouth. 

There was a crashing noise, and barely thirty seconds later John was standing in the doorway, wand out. He gave the room a swift once over, before lowering his wand. Harry could hear someone shouting from the other room. 

“Something wrong?”

Harry stared at him, hand still covering his mouth. 

“Are you okay?” John asked again, looking a bit less fierce. Harry suddenly realized he had ink on his face, and had to stifle a nervous giggle. He lowered his hand slowly. 

“Sorry. I just - sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“It’s fine,” John said slowly, then asked again, “Are you okay?”

“I… realized I forgot my owl,” he said, face going hot in embarrassment. “Sorry.” 

“Shit- I mean. Crap. Sorry. Um, I’ve got a friend in Scotland who could look after her, but she should be able to find her way to you.” 

“All the way from England?” Harry asked skeptically. 

John finally relaxed, slouching against the doorframe. “Yeah. Post owls are magical. They use ley lines to travel - how else could they take mail all over the country so quickly?”

Harry wanted to ask how John knew that, and what ley lines were, but he just nodded. “Okay. Thanks… um, you’ve got ink on your chin.” “Damn - er, darn,” he corrected, and stepped over to look in Harry’s mirror. He waved his hand in front of his face and the ink disappeared. 

“Whoa,” Harry said, eyes wide. “You can do magic without a wand?!”

“What - oh,” John chuckled and held out his hand, where he was wearing a dark colored ring that, on closer inspection, Harry realized was made of wood, with carvings around the band. “It’s a focus. It works a bit like a wand, less powerful though.” A loud shout from the living room made him roll his eyes. “I gotta go -“ he jerked a thumb at the door. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” Harry said again, feeling faintly bewildered as John nodded and went back out, shouting for someone to hold their horses. 

“This is my home,” he whispered, testing it out. It felt strange. Deciding he had had quite enough excitement for the time being, and rather exhausted from the day, Harry crawled up the ladder and into bed.


	3. Chapter 3

When Harry woke he panicked for a moment about where he was, then remembered. He spent a moment enjoying the lovely bed, and the nice room, with no broken toys or any of Dudley’s old stuff in it, before he heard a strange noise. He sat up quickly. 

“What…” he started, then jumped back. There was something furry on his pillow!

He groped for his glasses, then blinked, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. It was either quite a large cat or a small panther [1]. The Dursley’s had never had pets - at least not for long - and Harry was unsure how to approach one. Or if this even was a pet - perhaps a it had gotten loose from the zoo. The cat solved this problem by making a disgruntled noise and rolling to its feet. It walked over the blankets toward Harry and flopped in his lap. 

“Hello,” Harry said warily. The cat meowed at him, so Harry carefully petted it around the large, furry, bat like ears. It was black as night, had a tuft of fur on the end of its tail, and around its neck was a gold collar with a metal tag that read ‘Tevildo’2. Tevildo seemed pleased by the attention, and let Harry pet it for several minutes, before apparently having enough and going back over to the pillow to flop down and go back to its sleep.

Harry found himself smiling. There were birds chirping outside, and it was still the gray, early morning light coming in through the window. He must have slept all the way back ‘round to morning. He climbed down from his bed and crept over to the door. The house sounded quiet. 

After a moment to get his nerve up, he stuck his head out the door. He couldn’t hear or see anyone. Finally, his stomach reminded him that food was necessary, and he ventured out. 

John’s door was still closed, and Harry bit his lip, debating between waking him and asking if he could have breakfast, or testing John’s promise yesterday. Remember how grumpy his Uncle Vernon was in the mornings, Harry went into the kitchen, carefully taking out the pans and mixing bowls as quietly as he could and began making breakfast.

There were scones in the oven and he was nearly done with the bacon when he heard the click of a door opening. He turned warily to see John, hair crazier than Harry’s, walking past the kitchen doorway. 

“Morning,” he said roughly. Then he did a double take and walked over in a sort of cautious way. 

“Good morning,” Harry responded carefully. “I’m making breakfast. It should be done in a few minutes.” 

At that, John’s eyebrows rose even higher, but he only said, “Cool. Why don’t I work the stove and you get out plates and glasses?” 

Harry blinked. “Alright… I’ve just got the bacon to finish, then the eggs,” Harry said, as calmly as his racing heart would let him. “Um, sorry, but you’re out of everything else.”

John leaned against the counter, then flicked his wand. “There, that should keep us from getting splattered by the grease,” he said. “Which reminds me - we’ll need to send in an application for a focus permit, so you can do magic while you’re here.” 

Harry, who had turned around to open the silverware drawer, swiveled back to stare at him. “I’m only 11!” 

“As long as you’ve got adult supervision and a permit, you’re allowed to practice,” John said. 

“Wicked! We can only do magic outside of school when we turn seventeen in England,” Harry explained. 

“Hm. Well, if you’d rather not -“

“No, I want to! I’ll pay for it, if there’s a fee. I’ll need to go to Gringotts… “ he paused. “Er, is there another branch of Gringotts?” 

“There is a branch of Gringotts in LA. If you’d like to stop there we can, but don’t worry about money. We can go out for groceries, and whatever you need later.” He gave Harry a look when he opened his mouth to protest. “I accepted being your guardian, which means it’s my job to keep you fed and watered. And clothed.” He said the last with a slight smile, and Harry felt his face go hot. “Like I said, we’ll go out and get whatever you need today.” 

“All right,” Harry said. He carefully took two plates out of the cupboard, then glasses, and silverware. John put the eggs he’d made onto the plates, the bacon, and a scone each. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you,” John said. “You did the hard part.” He led Harry into the dining room, the glasses floating ahead of them. Harry watched in amazement as the settled down at two of the place settings. A moment later, a mug and a carafe of coffee floated out of the kitchen. “Water? Juice?” 

“Um, juice?” Harry asked, sitting down carefully. “Do you have pumpkin juice?” 

“_Pumpkin_ juice?” John asked, looking faintly intrigued. “Never had it. We can check one of the import grocery stores at the Scarlet Market3, maybe they’ll have it? I can do apple or cranberry.” 

“Apple, please,” Harry said, and watched with some awe as another wand flick produced a steady filling of liquid in his cup. 

John filled his own glass with a dark purplish liquid, the cranberry juice, Harry guessed, and then poured himself a cup of coffee. They both set to their breakfasts. 

“Wow, you’re a good cook,” John said, sounding surprised. Then he gave Harry a serious look. “So, how was living with Petunia and her husband?”

He asked in that fake casual way adults sometimes did, that made Harry wary. He shrugged, but then remembered his Aunt was gone, and couldn’t punish him. But: “I’ve told people before, and they didn’t believe me.”

John’s face went blank for a moment, before he put his fork down and looked at Harry seriously. “Who?”

“A few teachers. I’d just get in trouble when the Dursley’s found out. After that I stopped trying. I asked Dumbledore if I could stay at Hogwarts over the summer, but he said no.”

“Will you tell me?”

Harry regarded him. He seemed sincere, and, Harry remembered with a warm feeling, he had promised to protect Harry. And fixed up his room.

But it made him squirm uncomfortably. “They just - didn’t like me. I had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. I’d do the cleaning, and weed the garden and stuff. When I was old enough to reach the stove, I cooked breakfast. And sometimes lunch and supper, unless they were having guests and Aunt Petunia was making something fancy.” He looked down at his hands. “I wasn’t very good at it, so I’d get punished.”

John went still. “How?”

Harry shrugged. “Mostly they’d just lock me in my cupboard with no meals for a bit. Aunt Petunia hit me with a frying pan once, and Uncle Vernon used his belt.” He peeked up and saw John’s jaw clenched and his hands squeezed in fists.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We should have - tried harder. We never thought they’d leave with Petunia. I knew how she felt about magic, but I never thought she'd -“ he stopped and looked sharply at Harry. “Dumbledore knew?”

Harry nodded. “I asked if I could stay at Hogwarts over the summer.” 

“Okay,” John said, then stood abruptly. “Okay. I don’t - I like cooking, and I’m up early most days. We’ll find a different chore for you. Keeping your room clean or something.”

“I don’t mind!” Harry said quickly. He didn’t want John to think he wouldn’t contribute. 

“And that’s fine. If you really want to cook, maybe once a week or something. And I’d rather you didn’t use the stove without supervision.”

Harry nodded again, watching with wide eyes as John paced. Finally, he sat back down. 

“Two things: first, you mentioned Voldemort, and something about a stone getting stolen at Hogwarts.” 

Harry nodded cautiously. “Um, yes. I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.” 

“Okay.” John took a deep breath. “The second thing is - Dumbledore was wrong. All the adults who didn’t help you were wrong. _You _didn’t do anything wrong, they did. So, screw Dumbledore and whatever bullshit he told you. The old bastard’s not getting within a thousand miles of you ever again.” 

Harry’s jaw dropped. He’d never heard anyone say anything bad about Dumbledore before. 

“You know what an Auror is?” John asked, sitting back down and leaning forward on the table. Harry shook his head. “It’s similar to a No-Maj Police Detective. I solve crimes and hunt down criminals. Things like robberies and attempted murders. So, I’d really like you to tell me what happened at school.”

Harry swallowed harshly. “Er… alright.” He began. Occasionally John would interrupt to ask questions - “What spell did your friend use to open the door on the third floor corridor? What was the mirror called? A _Cerberus? _And the brooms were already in the room with the flying keys?”

When Harry had finally told John about how he’d gotten the stone from the mirror and then burned Quirrell, then woke up later in the hospital wing, John looked at him seriously. 

“That was very brave of you. I’m sorry none of the adults around helped you, _like they should have_,” he said, scowling very briefly before schooling his expression back into neutrality. “But... do you think it was very difficult for Professor Quirrell - or Voldemort - to get through those obstacles?” 

“Um… no? We thought he never went after it until then because Professor Dumbledore was at the school.” 

John nodded. “So why, if that was supposed to be the safest place for the stone, would three first years be able to easily pass all the obstacles?” 

Harry opened his mouth to protest, then blinked. Yes, Ron had gotten hurt, but still - they were first years! They only knew a few spells. Quirrell had managed to rob Gringotts! 

“It was a trap.” Harry realized suddenly. He glanced at John, who nodded once. “Dumbledore was using the stone as bait.” Another nod. “Does… this mean I can’t go back to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, dreading the answer. 

Another wand flick, and a piece of paper and a pen zoomed over, landing in front of Harry. “If you can give me three unarguable reasons for you to go back, then we’ll talk.” He stood again. “I’m gonna take care of the dishes, and then we can go out and pick up some stuff for dinner.” 

“But -“ Harry started, then closed his mouth sharply.

John took a deep breath, then sat back down. “You’re not - sorry, that wasn’t fair. It's too dangerous for you to go back to England, until we find out exactly what’s going on with Voldemort. I’m going to follow up on what you’ve told me with the Director of the DMLE here, and then we’ll… see.”

“So, I might be able to go back?” Harry pressed.

John rubbed his forehead. “Maybe. If it’s safe. And if you still want to.” 

Harry couldn’t imagine not wanting to go back to Hogwarts. He couldn’t imagine life without magic. Would he have to go back to regular school? Harry imagined it would be slightly better without Dudley around, but he’d missed a whole year. He’d be _held back. _His breathing was coming fast by that point, and he nearly missed John’s next words. 

“I’ll have some brochures sent over, and you can ask us all your question and decide where you’d rather go,” he told Harry. 

Harry looked at him. Brochures? Then he caught the wording and gave him a questioning look. “Um, us?” 

“Me and - oh, I should have mentioned it yesterday, but I was half asleep when I got the message. My husband won’t be back until tonight - Rodney’s out of the country for work. ” 

“Oh,” Harry said, eyes going wide. Husband? Uncle Vernon had yelled about boys and other boys, a lot. He looked down hurriedly at his plate. But - Uncle Vernon had shouted about everything, especially magic. He quickly looked back up again, in case John took that the wrong way. “I’m um, looking forward to meeting him? He… he was alright with me staying here?” He asked, a little worriedly. 

John looked faintly amused, as he said, “Yes, I let him know last night, and he was… um, fine with it,” he said with a little hesitation. Harry must have had a dubious expression, because he explained, still with that fond, amused look, “He’s eager to grill you on the teachers at Hogwarts. He knows two of the professors at Hogwarts.” 

“Um,” Harry said, not sure how to respond to that. “Is he a professor?” 

“Sometimes. He does a lecture on runes at Ilvermorny once a year, and he has an apprentice right now, but he’s mainly an astrophysicist, who mostly works with No-Majs,” John said. “And he does ward schemes on the side.” 

“Oh.” Harry wasn’t sure what an astrophysicist did. Physics was math… math with stars? “That sounds… interesting. Um, brochures?”

John full on grinned, and suddenly Harry could see the resemblance between him and Lily Evans Potter. “He thinks so.” John said with a shrug. “Right. There’s Ilvermorny, Académie de Magie, and Encantador for boarding schools in North America, and then there’s a day school here in San Francisco. A couple of my friends’ kids go there.” 

“Oh… I didn’t realize there were so many,” Harry said quietly. His fork scraped across his plate and he winced. 

“You have some time to decide. I’m on leave until September, so we can do whatever you like for the rest of the summer. What kind of stuff do you like?” 

“Um… flying? I play Quidditch.” He was still reeling from all the new information. The thought of picking a new school - of being the new kid was intimidating. 

“Cool. We can go to a game of Quidditch - Quodpot, too. If you like flying, I bet you’ll like surfing. I usually go in the morning - ‘s’why I get up early. Whatever you’d like to do.” 

Harry managed a small smile. “That sounds alright. Is there a place like Diagon Alley here?” 

“Most of the big cities have a few streets tucked away for magic users. Here - all the shops are in the Scarlet Market. New York has a pretty cool magical area, and so does New Orleans. And there are a few all magical towns scattered around.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, a little overwhelmed by all of it. He wouldn’t hold his breath that it would happen, but it was nice to think about. 

“There’s a library up the road that has a magic section. We’ll get you a card and you can read up on wherever you’d like to visit.” He paused, then added, a bit sheepishly, “We did have plans to go to Quebec in August to visit Rodney’s sister. I know that might be weird, so you and I can stay -” 

“No,” Harry said quickly. “That’s fine. Don’t change your plans for me. I’ve never been… anywhere, really, except London and Hogwarts.” 

John eyed him before nodding. “If you change your mind, that’s fine.” He paused. “Okay, I think that’s enough of the heavy stuff. Do you feel like going out? I do need to pick up groceries. 

“Um, sure,” Harry said. 

“Great! Do you want to get groceries or stuff first?” 

“Stuff?” Harry echoed suspiciously. 

“Yeah, stuff. Clothes stuff, fun stuff. Stuff for your room. Magic stuff.” 

Harry’s shoulders hunched. “You don’t need-” 

“Yes, I do. You’re family, and family is supposed to take care of each other,” John said firmly. He waved Harry off, and Harry went, a bit bemused. He cleaned up in the bathroom, carefully wiping the mirror and the floor with his towel, then put on his school trousers and a his least stretched T-shirt with his ratty trainers and met John by the front door. John took out his wand and gestured at the mirror. 

“Better do a glamour,” he said. 

Harry blinked at him. “A glamour?” 

“It’s like a magical disguise. We can make you look a bit different.” Harry nodded eagerly, and John pointed his wand at Harry’s face. “So, what do you think? Red eyes? Maybe a wart on your chin?” 

“No!” Harry yelped, jerking away from him. He glared when John just grinned at him. “Just… can you cover up my scar? That’s what everyone looks at anyways.” 

“Hmm,” John agreed, tapping Harry’s forehead with his wand, and Harry watched in awe as the scar disappeared. “Good?” 

“Perfect,” Harry grinned. “Can you make my hair lie flat?” 

That proved to be beyond magic, in the end, and John gave Harry a hat to wear and promised to get him a good haircut. He changed his eyes and chin enough that he only looked kind of like Harry Potter. Then he handed Harry a bag. 

“What’s this for?” 

“For the stuff,” he explained blithely. Harry looked at the bag dubiously, but hooked it over his shoulder and followed John out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Paraphrase from Harry’s description of Crookshanks in HP&POA. [Back]  
2 [Tevildo, "The Prince of Cats" from LOTR](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Tevildo) [Back]  
3 Through the hidden entrance under the drainpipe between the East and West sides of the Solari Building on Jackson Street. The magical back half of the building still houses the original c. Lagauterie and Company wine import business. [Back]


	4. Chapter 4

One small bag did not properly prepare Harry for the magnitude of _stuff_. They went to Muggle - No-Maj!, he reminded himself - places first, picking up clothes and shoes for Harry. Harry wore one of his new outfits and the sandals out, and watched John banish Dudley’s old clothes with satisfaction. Then John wanted him to pick out shampoo and soap. He had looked faintly horrified when Harry said he’d never used conditioner, and put two bottles in the basket. After that it was decorations for his room and even a couple video games to play on John’s Super Nintendo. Even with everything shrunk, the bag was getting heavy, and Harry had sore feet and absolutely no idea how to get back to the house. At almost exactly the time Harry was about to venture asking for a break, John ducked into an alley and _apparated _them. 

It was only slightly better the second time. 

After Harry stopped feeling sick, he looked around curiously. The sunlight was blinding after the dark alley. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he blinked at the riot of color. They’d landed in a small alcove off a narrow lane. There were shops crammed along both sides of the streets, and stalls set up on the sidewalk. A carriage pulled by nothing at all went down the road, and then two witches on mountain bikes sped past. 

“Where are we?” He asked in an awed voice. It was like Diagon Alley, except most of the people were wearing No-Maj clothes, only some of them with robes overtop.

“This is the Scarlet Market,” John said, drawing him out of the alcove. He gestured down the road, where two other roads connected to the lane they were on, creating a ‘Y’ shape. There was a raised triangular bit of grass in the middle, and a big sign with arrows, topped with a large dark red sphere. As the sphere rotated, Harry saw the glowing white letters that encircled it read SCARLET MARKET, and in smaller letters underneath _San Francisco_. The arrow pointing back at them had Germane Lane written on it, which Harry guessed must be the street name, and hanging off the arrow was a black and white sign that read “C. Lagauterie & Co.” Harry peered back and could see quite a few shops, but none with that name close enough to make out. The other two arrows were of the same configuration, one read Uncommon Alley, with the sign below for Singing Serpent, and the other Tangent Alley and Miss Verity's.

Harry stared for a long time, until John gently nudged him. 

“Street names, and the businesses underneath are where the No-Maj entrances to the Market are," he explained. "Come on. I promise we'll come back later, but we’ve got a lot of stuff to get done.” 

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly, following after John with his head swiveling to take everything in. There were shops for robes and Wizarding clothes, a magical bicycle shop, secondhand shops with furniture in the windows, and another with televisions and vinyl records in the display. Harry stared longest at that - he’d never seen wizards in England using any sort of technology. 

“In here,” John said, and Harry turned to see a tiny shop just called “Sal’s”, with tables on the sidewalk. “They’ve got good sandwiches,” John said, leading Harry inside. There was a counter just inside the door, and it had a checkerboard floor and one tiny table with spindly chairs around, and a couple stools at the end of the counter. The man behind the counter made them both huge sandwiches with lots of turkey for John and roast beef for Harry, and chips for both of them. Harry got something called Butterscotch Soda and John got a coffee and a large glass of water instead of the new type of beer the man offered (“no thanks, I’m apparating.”). They took their food outside and took their time eating and resting and watching everyone go by.

“How would you feel about a haircut?” 

“Um…” Harry leaned in to whisper, “The last time Aunt Petunia cut my hair it grew back overnight.” 

“Was it a bad haircut?” John asked. 

“Terrible,” Harry said, grimacing. 

“Yeah, that happened to me a couple times when I was a kid,” John said, smiling at Harry’s astonished expression. “Don’t worry, Leon’s been cutting my hair for years, it’ll be okay. And if your hair does grow back, it’s no big deal.” 

Harry wasn’t sure he believed _that_, but followed John down the lane to an old fashioned shop, that even had the striped pole outside the door. There were two men wearing white smocks, one very old, and one middle aged, and all the customers were old, too, sitting in the cracked leather seats reading newspapers. In one corner two old men were playing chess. Harry stared when he realized the pieces were moving and then he looked around the room again with wide eyes. The photos on the wall moved, and the mirror was talking back to the barber as he cut the next customers hair. 

“That's Leon," John said, pointing at the very old man, "And that's his son, Jerry," at the middle aged man. "They do teeth here, too,” John said, gesturing for Harry to sit. 

“Magical dentists?” Harry asked. “Hermione would love to hear about that!” 

“If you want to send her mail, we can do that. Magical or No-Maj,” John said. “I’ll go first so you can see how it’s done.” When it was their turn, John hopped into the chair and a white sheet laid over his front. The barber chatted, while a comb and a pair of scissors moved around in the air, snipping away. In less than five minutes, the barber whipped the sheet away, used his wand like a vacuum cleaner to clean up all the stray hair and then it was Harry’s turn.

Leon asked him lots of questions about his hair, nodding seriously at Harry’s answers. Harry took off his glasses, squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for someone to tell him the haircut was over. 

“It’s safe now,” John told him a few minutes later, sounding like he was trying not to laugh, and Harry peeked open one eye, before sliding his glasses back on. Then blinked in surprise. His hair actually looked alright. Still sticking up, but it was short enough on the sides it didn’t look so messy, and the front was long enough to partially cover the scar. 

“What do you think?” the barber asked, bushy eyebrows raised in question. 

“It’s the best haircut I’ve ever had!” Harry said brightly. “Thank you!” 

“Eh, you weren’t half as bad as he was, his first time here,” Leon said, jerking a thumb towards John. “At least you sit still. You want some color? Lots of kids like stripes and things nowadays,” he offered. 

Harry looked at John in question, who shrugged and smiled. “Up to you - it’s your hair.” Leon spelled it a few different colors, before Harry decided he would stick with his normal hair color for now. People stared at him enough without adding another difference. 

Next to the barber shop was a magical optometrist, and John ushered him in. Harry got new glasses that would shift if his prescription changed. The healer had even told him about a potion he could buy to get his eyes fixed permanently, once he’d stopped growing. After that was a healer’s clinic a bit further down the lane.

The bell over the door dinged as Harry followed John into a bright pink waiting room. 

“Hey, Marie,” John said, walking over the counter where a dark haired witch sat. “My cousin just needs a quick check, do you have a spot open?”

“Let me check…” She tapped a book, and a piece of paper shot into the air, which she handed to John. “Tomorrow at eleven work?” 

He glanced at it. “Thanks, Marie. See you tomorrow.”

Finally, they went to the very end of the lane where there were three stores: a grocer’s and a butcher shop across from one another, and then at the end was ‘C. Lagauterie & Co. Wine and Magical Imports’. It had all sorts of things, and Harry hesitantly picked up a package of cauldron cakes when John urged him to pick out his own snacks. All that got him was a grin and a compliment on his taste, so Harry grew a bit more bold, grabbing several chocolate frogs and a dozen fizzing whizbees. Next door, they picked up regular food. None of it was frozen or packaged, it was like an old fashioned grocer’s with fresh veg and fruit, and dry goods like flour and sugar in woven sacks. On the other side was the butcher’s shop, with meat and cheese. 

After they’d checked out, paying at all three stores with a credit card, another thing Harry boggled at - it seemed so out of place next to displays of Bertie Bott’s and giant wheels of cheese - John apparated them back home. Harry was becoming quite used to the sensation. It took almost ten minutes to unload and resize everything they bought. When that was done, John left him alone for Harry to go through his new things while he went to put away the groceries. 

Harry boggled a bit at the pile of stuff on his new rug. But he put his new clothes away carefully in the dresser, and tucked his candy away in his trunk. He contemplated the posters for a bit, before sitting them on the dresser to put up later, when he had either magic or tape at hand, before leaving his room again.

John was sat at the dining table, filling out a piece of paper that looked official. 

“Focus permit application,” he said, glancing up and nodding in approval at Harry. “Did you want to write any letters? We can send them all at once.” 

Harry debated for a few moments, then shook his head. He’d already sent several letters to his friends. He wasn’t going to try again until he heard something back. He watched as John stood with the permit application, now in an envelope and then tossed it into the fireplace with a shout of “SF OwlPost Office!” Harry’s jaw dropped. He had no idea you could send _paper_ through the floo. 

“What would you like to do? We can just hang out, or go explore some more.” 

“Is there somewhere we can go flying?” 

“Sure, right in the backyard. The whole property is warded, so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you when you fly. Go grab your broom, I’ll show you how to activate the charms.” Harry hurried into his room, grabbing his broom, and then followed John downstairs and through the garage. There, he held out a hand, and a broom flew out of a closet right into his grasp. 

“Whoa,” Harry said quietly.

By the back door, there was a small black box attached to the wall. Instead of a keyhole, there just a latch, and a small marking. 

“You can only see it if you have magic,” John explained. “We have No-Maj friends that come over, so we have this, sort of a magical switchbox, to turn off the charms for the backyard.” Harry watched closely while John showed him how to open the box with a special pattern drawn with his finger on the box, and then which spells to turn on for flying. They were conveniently grouped together around a little stick figure on a broom. 

“There we are,” John said, opening the door and gesturing for Harry to go through. Harry did so, and gasped. 

“Brilliant!” The yard had transformed into half a quidditch pitch now, with a set of three hoops about half regulation height on the end away from the house, and the ground was covered in grass, somehow. When he walked on it, the ground bounced under his feet. 

“Expansion charms and cushioning charms,” John said proudly. “With a few other spells worked in. We do pickup games on the weekend sometimes.” The two of them flew for nearly an hour, doing tricks, and then playing a game half hot potato, half keep away, with a quaffle. 

“How high can we go?” Harry shouted. John pointed up, and then shot upwards, until he was twice as high as the tallest hoop, before he stopped. Above him, the air shimmered lightly. 

“We have to stay low enough we won’t interfere with any No-Maj air traffic,” John explained, as Harry flew up next to him. “And it goes down to the height of the house when we just have the regular backyard wards up.” 

Harry was only half paying attention, though, staring west at the wide expanse of ocean. “Can we go closer?” Harry asked. 

“Sure. Now?” 

Harry nodded, and they flew down. John spelled off the wards and set both their brooms in the broom closet, and then the two of them walked down to the beach. 

Harry looked out at the ocean in awe. The Dursley’s had gone on holiday to the sea several times, but they always left him with Mrs. Figg. 

“It’s good, huh,” John said.

“It’s brilliant,” Harry said fervently. After a bit, he said, tentatively, “Could we wade a bit?” 

“Sure,” John agreed, and they both shucked their shoes and stepped into the foamy water. 

“It’s cold!” Harry said, jumping back.

“Yeah, it doesn’t get much warmer than around fifty in the summer this far north - Fahrenheit,” he clarified at Harry’s baffled look. They ended up splashing around and running through the waves for a bit, then John sneakily conjured a frisbee, and they played with that for a while. There were some other kids on the beach, and Harry was roped into an impromptu game of tag, before John shouted for him. 

“Come back tomorrow!” The oldest boy, Tommy, shouted, and Harry shrugged and waved before running over to John. 

“Sorry, we need to head back and start supper.” 

“Can we still try the surfing thing you mentioned?”

“Sure, first thing tomorrow,” John agreed easily, grinning. 

They walked back to the house, and Harry went to the back garden to shake the sand out of his shoes while John went up to the kitchen. When he came back inside, the fire in the living room was lit, and Harry stared in amazement as the fireplace stretched until it was twice as tall, just before a man stepped out. 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “How did you do that?” He asked. 

The man frowned at Harry. He was almost as tall as John, with light brown hair and blue eyes. And a very impressive scowl. 

“Sheppard!” The man shouted. Harry took a step backward, stumbling over Tevildo, who ran under Harry’s feet and jumped up. The man caught the cat in his arms. 

“Just a second!” John shouted back. He ambled down the stairs a few moments later, glancing between them. “Harry, this is Rodney McKay. Rodney, this is my cousin, Harry Potter.” 

“Harry Potter - Sheppard, you did not tell me your cousin was Harry Potter.” The cat jumped down and Rodney pointed an accusing finger at John. Harry tensed. 

“Yes, I did,”John argued. “I flooed, told you what happened, and you said, “Yes, John, of course your young cousin can live with us.” 

Rodney spluttered. “I definitely did not say that.” 

Harry blinked back tears. He should have known it was all too good to be true. He turned to creep past John, who was too focused on arguing to pay attention. 

“Hey,” Rodney said, interrupting John. He turned and saw Harry. 

“Rodney,” John said, in a scary voice. Harry shrank back against the bannister.

“What? Oh - yes, he did tell me about you, and I agreed, I just didn’t know that you were… _you_. Harry Potter.”

He couldn’t help but make a face. “Are people going to bug me here, too?” he asked.

“Why would they? I’m just interested in your scar - would you mind if I took some scans? It’s supposedly unique. I’d -“ 

“Rodney,” John said again, but this time he sounded like he might laugh. 

“Er, yes, I also want you to live with us,” Rodney said in a stilted voice. He glanced at John, who gestured, then turned back to Harry. “Okay?”

Harry didn’t quite believe him, but he nodded. 

“Good?” John asked, and after he received agreements from them both, started up the stairs. “Okay, let’s go start supper. And Rodney, clear your schedule for dinner tomorrow!” 

“What? Why? Ronon’s coming over with the work on that ward construct for-” he glanced at Harry, “work.” 

“Because,” John shouted back, “We have plans!” 

“What plans?” Rodney shouted back following him up the stairs. Halfway up he turned and gestured impatiently for Harry to follow. 

“Grandma is coming to dinner!” John said, turning to look at them as they walked into the kitchen.

Harry blanched. 

“We could reschedule,” John told him. “But that just means she’ll show up with no warning.”

“Evil woman,” Rodney muttered, peering over John’s shoulder at the food on the counter.

“She’s not evil,” John said rolling his eyes. “Rodney’s scared of her -“ a yelp of protest - “and I think they’re just too much alike.”

“I’m nothing like that harpy!”

“They both like to have their own way, like to be right all the time -“ John broke off, dodging and laughing as Rodney attempted to put a hand over his mouth.

Harry watched the display with wide eyes. “Will I meet the rest of them? You said you have a big family.”

“Won’t be able to keep them away,” Rodney said, garbled through a mouthful of pear.

“You’ll meet them all August first,” John said, smiling. “If not before then. We all go back home for the village festival. Hey, if you end up going to Ilvermorny, you’ll be there with… five cousins?”

“Ivy graduated,” Rodney said. 

“Four cousins,” John amended. “Three students and then our cousin Michael is the flying instructor there.” 

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. 

“Day school is far superior - no boarding school food, no sharing bedrooms with teenagers, access to technology,” Rodney listed. He opened his mouth to add more, but John pushed a pile of flatware at him. 

“Why don’t you set the table,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And if Harry _asks_ our opinion, we’ll give it to him.” 

“Bossy,” Rodney mumbled, taking the pile and going. 

“Can I help?” Harry asked. 

“I mostly do it all with magic,” John admitted, looking a bit embarrassed. 

“You can cook with magic?” Harry exclaimed. “Can I watch?” 

“Uh, sure. Here,” he said, and to Harry’s surprise, he lifted him up onto an empty stretch of counter. Harry clutched tightly at the edge of the counter. John smiled. “There. Now -“ and he flicked his wand a few times. The ears of corn began shucking themselves, while knives chopped tomatoes and onions and courgettes, and several pots and pans jostled for space on the stove top. Another swish, and the fish was being neatly descaled, deboned and cut into fillets, before dropping into a hot pan. The corn was sent over to a pot, and the courgette to the other pan. The pieces onions and tomatoes kept getting smaller and smaller, until they were dumped into a bowl and mixed, then a small bunch of greens were chopped and tossed into the mix. 

Harry stared around with wide eyes then turned his head to look up at John. “This. Is. Amazing!” he said, grinning. 

“Thanks,” John said easily. While all that happened, a loaf of bread was being sliced and put on a pan for the oven, and the last pan was playing host to a bubbling mix of butter and sugar. Harry watched curiously as other flour and sugar and other ingredients were mixed together. Slices of pear were arranged in a cake pan, drizzled over by the caramel, and then the batter covered it all[**4**].

“Did you learn this at school?” 

“The magic parts of it. Mostly I learned to cook from my mom, and my grandma.” John waved his wand, and dinner began assembling - fish and courgette on a platter with the corn, and that and a butter dish flew off into the dining room, followed by the bowl of chopped up tomatoes, and then the bread was swapped for the cake in the oven, and the toasted pieces went into a cloth covered basket, which John sent out after the rest. 

Finally, and in Harry’s opinion, the best part, a wave of his wand sent the dishes leaping into the sink to clean themselves, the stove top and the counters clean, and the floor shining like it had just been swept and mopped. All with magic. 

Somehow, Harry was going to learn _all _of it. 

After dinner, John sent the dishes to wash themselves while he helped Harry put up his new posters, and Rodney showed him how to write a locking rune on his trunk. 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to use magic without a permit,” Harry said, hesitating. 

“Ah, you can’t use a magical _focus_, like a wand or a staff without a permit, but it doesn’t say anywhere you can’t use _magic. _And runes don’t require a focus,” Rodney said with a crooked grin. 

“Oh!” Harry said, looking at Rodney in a new light. He traced the runes Rodney showed him on the trunk over the lock, and John obligingly attempted to break in. When he failed, Harry beamed at Rodney. “That’s wicked! How’d you learn how to do that?” 

“Practice. I had nosy roommates. And I’ve - ooh, is that Legend of Zelda?” He asked, making grabby hands at the untidy stack of games on the bookshelf. 

Harry shifted slightly, then stood. “You can play it, if you want,” he offered. 

Rodney grabbed it, then paused. “Um, why don’t you play first, since it’s yours,” he said in a clearly reluctant voice. 

“I’ve never played a video game before,” Harry told him. 

“You’ve never - right. Let’s go.” He gestured impatiently when Harry didn’t immediately follow. Harry gave John a quick glance, but he smiled and waved him off. Harry followed him down the stairs, where Rodney was pulling a game console and a bunch of wires from a cabinet. There was a TV in the cabinet, too. It took him a moment to set things up, then he put the controller in Harry’s hands. Tevildo, who had been snoozing in front of the fire, gave them a disdainful look, and then fled upstairs when loud music started playing over the speakers.

“Now, this is what you do,” he started, the beginning of a three hour long crash course in video games. They ended up switching through three different games, before John shouted for them to go to bed. 

Harry snuggled into his new bed, in his new pajamas, and smiled into his fluffy, Gryffindor colored pillow. Even if it didn’t last, today had been the best day he’d ever had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 I have never made this [recipe](https://www.cookingforkeeps.com/brown-butter-upside-down-pear-cake/), but it sounds delicious. [Back]


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Harry ventured out of his room and found John walking out of his, wearing a strange gray outfit that looked kind of like an old fashioned swimming suit. 

“What’s that?” He asked, then winced. 

“Wetsuit. For surfing,” John explained. “Still want to come with?” 

Harry agreed, and John disappeared back into his room, before coming back with another wetsuit, that he shrunk until it would fit Harry. Harry changed, with some difficulty, then followed John out through the garage, apparently where he kept his surfboards, and they carried them over to the beach. There were a few other people already out on the water, and Harry watched as one distant figure was swallowed by the water. He gulped. It took a minute, but he found the figure again, some meters away from where they had gone under. 

“Maybe…” 

“We’ll practice on the beach first,” John said with a laugh. In a lower voice, he added, “Besides, we have magic. I’ll put a flotation charm on your suit before you go out.”

Harry relaxed a bit, and then John showed him how to lay on the board and how to paddle, and then ‘pop up’ without falling over. 

“Okay, we’re not going to surf yet - we’re just going to paddle out and practice sitting.” 

“_Sitting_?” Harry asked, looking askance at John. 

“Very important skill. Lots of waiting in surfing.” 

Harry gave him another look, but waited while John cast a few discreet spells on Harry, including a shark repelling spell - Merlin! Harry hadn’t even thought of _sharks - _before following him out into the water. They practiced sitting, paddling, and duck diving, and at the end, left the second board on the beach while John left Harry sit on the end of the board and surfed a few smaller waves. 

“Can we go again?” Harry asked, even though his teeth were chattering by the time they washed back up to the shore for the fourth time.

John glanced at his watch. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “You’re gonna be starving in about five minutes.” 

“That’s okay, I can ignore it,” Harry said. 

“Well, I’m hungry,” John said with a forced casual voice, and Harry winced, knowing he’d said something wrong. John squeezed his shoulder, and cast a discreet spell that made Harry start to warm up. “Come on, we’ll have breakfast and then we can go to the zoo.” 

When they got back to the house, breakfast was already in the offing. Not due to Rodney, who was slumped at the dining table over a mug of coffee, but the strange man in the kitchen. 

Harry froze. 

“Uh, hi,” John said, sounding a little amused. “Harry, this is Ronon Dex. He’s Rodney’s apprentice. Ronon, this is my cousin Harry.” 

The man - Ronon - wiped his hands on the dish towel over his shoulder and grinned at Harry. Ronon had tattoos up his arms, and a beard, and long hair. He was _extremely_ cool. Harry felt his face go hot. “Hey. Eggs?” 

“Um… okay,” Harry said. 

“Ronon, remember that talk we had about calling ahead?” 

“McKay said to come over,” Ronon said. 

“John, where - oh.” Another stranger, a short, very beautiful woman wearing robes, paused in the doorway and Harry blinked owlishly. “Good morning.” 

“Et tu, Teyla?” He asked, hitting his hand against his chest. Teyla rolled her eyes. “Harry, this is Teyla Emmagan. She’s the MACUSA Division Attorney for the West Coast. Teyla, this is my cousin, Harry Potter, lately of England.” 

“How wonderful to meet you. I do not recall this particular cousin…” she said, glancing at John. 

“Yeah, long story, but he lives here with us now.” 

“Cool,” Ronon said. “You want poached? I do a badass Hollandaise sauce.” 

“Is this why you have taken the six weeks off work?” Teyla asked. “Do you need anything?” This was directed to both Harry and John. 

“Harry’s still getting settled in,” John said, when Harry stared at him in mute pleading. John’s mouth twitched. “Why don’t you go change?” he suggested. Harry nodded, still unable to speak and did an about face straight back into the dining room. The sight of Rodney muttering over his coffee cup was enough to snap him out of his daze. 

As he walked to the hall, he could feel a buzzing on the back of his neck, and when he snuck a glance in the kitchen, could see Teyla and John’s mouth’s moving, but couldn’t hear a word. Then Ronon looked up and met his eye, and Harry hurried to his room, grabbing clothes and then locking himself into the bathroom to shower and change out of his sandy wetsuit. 

When he caught a glance at himself in the mirror, he groaned. Half his face had sand stuck to it! 

Upon rejoining the others in the dining room, Harry was slightly more composed. He sat across from Teyla and managed a smile. Several platters edged their way closer to him pointedly, and Harry dished up enough food to fill his plate to the edge. 

“Grandma is coming this evening, and we’ve got the festival on Saturday, but we make it back for Moriko’s party,” John was saying, and Harry paid attention. “We’ll all need a break after that. Dinner next Sunday?” 

Rodney snorted but didn’t say anything, too busy eating, as was Ronon. Harry boggled a bit - their table manners were as bad as Ron’s and Dudley’s put together. He ducked his head to hide his expression after that thought. Remembering his Hogwarts friends - or supposed friends - made him unhappy. 

“Excellent,” Teyla said, smiling at Harry. “Perhaps Miko and her daughter, and Evan and his niece and nephew?” 

“Ford and Cadman -“ 

“Not her!” Rodney protested. 

“And Carson and Melena,” John continued over Rodney’s spluttering, smirking at Ronon. 

“Fuck off, Sheppard,” Ronon mumbled. 

“Ronon,” Teyla said in a warning voice. 

“Oh - sorry, kid,” Ronon said, grinning at Harry, who’s tongue abruptly tied itself once more. He mumbled something and then quickly stuffed more toast in his mouth. 

”Steak,” Rodney said.

”We’ll grill,” John decided. Teyla volunteered to bring drinks which made the rest of them laugh.

Once the matter of the barbecue was settled, the rest of breakfast was spent with Teyla gently interrogating Harry, who resisted with years of practice, with John to run interference, while Ronon and Rodney argued over a bit of parchment. They were still arguing as John banished the dishes to the kitchen to begin washing, and Teyla left through the floo. 

“I’ve just got to make a quick call, go grab your shoes,” John said, waving Harry off. Harry hurried to get ready, and found John still on the phone. 

“Thanks,” he said, before hanging up and smiling at Harry. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes!” 

“Bye!” John called to Rodney, receiving a distracted wave - or possibly a hand signal telling him to get out - and he and Harry made their escapes. They were taking John’s car to the zoo, which was sleek and black and very cool. 

“He reminds me of Hermione like that,” Harry said without thinking. Then he winced. Thinking about Hermione, one of the two friends he had back at Hogwarts, was painful. 

“That was one of the kids you went after the stone with?” 

“Yeah. She’s really smart.” 

“Have you guys written? Or called, I think you said she’s No-Maj-born?”

Harry scowled. “No. None of them have written me.” 

”I’m sorry,” John finally said, after a short silence. “Do you want to go the Magical or the No-Maj side first?” 

Harry hurried out of the car after him. “There’s a magical side?!” 

The San Francisco zoo was amazing. Not only was the regular side cool, there was a _magical _side, with Griffins and Erumpents and all sorts of magical creatures. It was enough for Harry to forget about the uncomfortable conversation he could sense was coming. 

There was an Occamy, part snake and part bird, that Harry was particularly fascinated by. He felt like he could almost understand it, and it was almost ten minutes before he moved on. There was a magical reptile house, with boomslangs, runespoors, and adders and tons of other species of snakes. Most of which Harry recognized only as potions ingredients. 

“Look at him,” Harry said, pointing at the runespoor. It only had two heads, and a quick glance at the description explained that the third head had been killed by the other two. 

“Which of us is he pointing at?” The snake asked. 

“Both of you,” Harry said. “You both very handsome.” 

Both heads preened. 

“What are they saying?” John asked. 

“You can’t understand them?” Harry asked, glancing up at John. 

“Nah, I’m not a parselmouth. You must get it from James’ side.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, both a bit happy to find out he got something from his dad, and annoyed that he hadn’t _known_. “I reckoned all wizards could talk to snakes.” 

“A fair few,” John said. “I think it mostly it runs in families. We can get some books on it if you’d like. Or Rodney might know someone.” 

Harry spent a few more minutes talking to the snakes before they moved on to the winged horses. These were in a fenced in area along with some six horned black sheep and chickens with flaming eyes, and small brown animals that Harry couldn’t quite place. Along with the animals, there were several workers in the bright green zoo uniforms, and visitors, adults and children, petting the animals and feeding them.

Hanging back, Harry glanced at John. “We can go in?” 

“It’s a petting zoo,” John explained. “You buy food out of the dispensers and can feed and pet the animals. The palomino winged horses are Abraxans, and the chestnuts are Aethonans.”

“Are the others magical creatures?” Harry asked, as they walked toward the enclosure. 

“Inflammable Sheep - from the Hebrides - fire-breathing chickens, and nifflers,” John said, pointing out the animals. He put a couple coins in a dispenser then dumped a handful of pellets into Harry’s hands. 

“Fire breathing?” Harry asked, dubiously, as he eyed the chickens. John pointed out a sign on the fence: Flame Repelling Charms Active. “Oh,” Harry said. Several sheep and chickens had crowded close while he hung back, and he tentatively held out a hand. “Ew!” He laughed, as a slobbery sheep tongue swept the pellets out of his hand. About half landed in the sheep’s mouth, while the rest hit the ground for the chickens to fight over. Harry crouched down to watch, as they shot little puffs of flame and bodily checked each other out of the way to feed them. 

“Are they hungry?” He asked, looking up at John. 

“We fill the containers up for their food for each meal. Whatever doesn’t get handed out by guests, we set out for them to eat,” a passing worker explained. “The chickens are just more aggressive than the other animals.” 

“John!” A voice shouted. John glanced around, and Harry did, too, curiously. A small Japanese woman in Muggle clothes and a girl around Harry’s age who looked enough like her Harry guessed they were related, were coming over.

“Hey,” John said, grinning and accepting the girl’s fist bump. “Harry, this is Miko Kusanagi and her daughter Moriko. Miko works with Rodney,” he added. “Miko, Moriko, this is my cousin Harry Potter. He lives with me and Rodney, now.” 

“Hi! Are you going to go to Miss Verity’s school?” Moriko asked brightly. “That’s where I go. We just started practical magic, and I can do — twenty two spells now! How many can you do? How old are you?” 

“Moriko, give him a moment to answer,” her mother said, shaking her head. 

“Um… I don’t know, I went to Hogwarts last year, but now I’ve moved. I never counted how many spells I can do, and I’m eleven.” 

“I’m twelve! My birthday was yesterday, but my party isn’t until Sunday,” she said, then gave John a look. “Rodney said he was getting me a good present this year, since last year he forgot. Don’t let him forget again.”

John smirked. “Don’t worry, he’s already got it.” 

She beamed and looked back at Harry. “You can come to my birthday party, if you want.” 

Harry glanced at John who nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

They finished walking the zoo together, Moriko chattering away about school, her teachers, and her friends, which mainly seemed to be two girls named Zoe and Paula. In turn, Harry told her about his teachers at Hogwarts and playing Quidditch. 

“You never said - are you going to Miss Verity’s classes with us?” Moriko asked. 

Harry shrugged, looking away. “I _want_ to go back to Hogwarts.” 

Moriko wrinkled her nose. “Why? Your teachers sounded mean, especially for potions, and I’d never want to be away from my mom the whole school year. How come you live with John and Rodney now, anyway?” 

“Um…” Harry looked back at John, who was walking behind them with Miko. 

“We’re related,” John said vaguely. “Do you guys want ice cream? Pick whatever you like, my treat.” Thoroughly distracted, Moriko ran ahead to the zoo shops. After another glance at John, Harry ran after her. 


	6. Chapter 6

After Harry admitted defeat over the last third of a truly enormous ice cream sundae, they crossed over to the No-Maj side of the zoo. Moriko dragged them first to ride on the carousel, waiting impatiently for the ride to stop so they could board. 

“I want the giraffe!” Moriko said, bouncing. 

“I call the tiger,” John told Moriko, who giggled and jumped forward as the worker waved for the line to move forward.

“Isn’t this for babies?” Harry whispered to John. John wordlessly raised his eyebrows at the adults and children exiting the carousel, even as Miko, who had helped her daughter onto the back of a giraffe, claimed a jackrabbit for herself.

If Dudley was here, he’d sneer for weeks about Harry being a baby, but… Harry bit his lip, then hurried onto the carousel. He didn’t want to get stuck riding a pig!

They went around the carousel once more, then wound through the zoo, finally ending up in the rainforest house. Harry told Moriko about accidentally letting the boa constrictor escape at the London Zoo, and she told him about the time she’d managed to apparate into the ape enclosure, and they had to call out the Obliviators. 

Harry translated between Moriko and the snakes for a bit, before John cleared his throat. 

“Sorry, kids. We’ve got to head out,” John said, glancing at his watch. 

“We will walk you back to the entrance,” Miko said, smiling at them. They wound back toward the parking lot and paused by the exit. “Perhaps we will see you tomorrow?” she asked, looking at John. 

“Dinner?” he said, glancing at Harry for some reason. Harry looked back, then gave a tentative nod. Was it supposed to be his decision? 

“Cool! I’m really glad mom wanted to come to the zoo today,” Moriko said, hugging Harry. 

“See you tomorrow!” Moriko shouted, waving after John and Harry. 

“Bye!” Harry called back. He couldn’t stop smiling all the way back to the car. The zoo, ice cream, and a new friend all in one morning. 

“We need to head over to the healer’s office,” John said, glancing at his watch. 

“Ugh,” Harry groaned, mood souring. His experience with Healer’s was limited to Madam Pomfrey but the Hogwarts Healing Wing had not left the greatest impression on him. 

“I know,” John commiserated. “Not a big fan of healers, myself.”

The same nurse as before was at the counter, and she smiled and handed John a stack of forms to fill out while they waited for the doctor - healer - Harry corrected himself. He looked around the room with some interest. It looked like the Muggle doctor he’d gone to for his vaccinations before school, with white walls and the exam table. Except the exam table was stone, and there were runes etched around it. On the walls were posters about Dragonpox and Mumblemumps that moved, and a notice about getting vaccinated. He could see potions vials in the cabinet against the wall. 

The clipboard suddenly took flight, winging out the door, and Harry stared after it. A moment later, and blonde woman in white robes came into the room. 

“Good morning!” She said cheerfully. “I’m Healer Melena Omi. How are you today?” 

“Er… okay,” Harry said. 

She smiled and looked down at her clipboard, then over at John. “No previous magical medical history?” 

“No, I’ve only been able to get the No-Maj history,” John said. 

“No problem! Harry, can you tell me if you’ve been seen by a healer before?” 

“Uh… well, I went to the hospital wing at school once. I don’t think Madam Pomfrey did any healing though - she said I just need rest.” 

“No other time? You haven’t taken any potions that you can recall?” 

“Er, no, I don’t think so.” 

“In that case, I’ll need to do a full scan and make sure you’ve been vaccinated. Lie back on the stone, please.” 

“It won’t hurt,” John told him. Harry nodded, and laid back, turning his head to watch as the witch as she flicked her wand, summoning paper and pen, which hung in the air, while she then began running her wand about a foot above his body. The pen scribbled against the paper, and kept scribbling for a few moments even after she’d covered his whole body. 

“You can sit up now,” she said, taking the paper and reading through it. Her face stayed quite still, which annoyed Harry, as he was very curious to know what had been written. 

“Okay,” she said finally. Her voice cracked a bit, and John sat up. “Okay, so it looks like you haven’t received vaccinations yet, so we’ll start with those today. I’m also going to send you home with some potions that will help your body get stronger. You’ll need to come back in a couple weeks so we can check up on your progress. Also, you’re beginning to show signs of magical atrophy.” 

“I’ve already sent in an application for a wand permit,” John said. “Just waiting for the paperwork to go through.” 

“Good. If it hasn’t arrived by next week, call me and I’ll have Healer Beckett or Adams write a note for you to do a few spells.” 

“I’ll start him on a couple wandless primers - runes and things.”

Harry listened to this, a little confused. It didn’t sound that bad, so there was clearly something they weren’t telling Harry. “What’s magical atrophy? And why do I need potions to get stronger?” 

The Healer looked at John, who nodded. 

“Think of your magic like… a muscle. You have to keep exercising it regularly by casting spells, in order for it to get stronger and more controlled. The more you use it, the better control you have. Magical atrophy can cause accidental magic, and it can also make you more susceptible to magical illnesses.”

“Why don’t they let us do magic in the summer, then?” Harry demanded. 

“I really couldn’t say why the laws in the UK are different,” she said apologetically. “But -“ she gave him a stern look, “when you get your permit, you have to make sure you don’t go to far in the opposite direction and overuse your magic. That can cause magical exhaustion, which is also dangerous.” She turned to the cabinet and began pulling potions vials out. 

“How will I know?” 

“If you feel tired after doing a spell, stop doing magic, and rest, and make sure you eat regular, healthy meals,” she said over her shoulder. Then she turned back around with a handful of potions. “All right. Vaccines for dragonpox, mumblemumps, vanishing sickness, and scrofungulus.” 

“I’ve never even heard of those!” Harry protested. 

“Healers can fix No-Maj diseases easily, but magical diseases are a bit harder,” John put in. “Your dad’s parents died from dragon pox.” 

Harry gave him a skeptical look, but neither John nor the healer looked like they were putting Harry on, so he nodded reluctantly. To his great relief there weren’t any needles involved. Healer Omi just tapped the vials with her wand, and a thin stream of potion flowed out of the vial and into Harry’s arm. 

“Good. Now, you’ll need to bring Harry in for a new dose for vanishing sickness every year, just bring him in whenever you or Rodney come by.” She handed John a bit of parchment, which he signed, and then said, “Okay, Marie will get you set up with a script for the other potions Harry will need.” As she spoke, she was scribbling on a piece of official looking parchment. “You can take this to whichever Apothecary you prefer, and please make sure to follow the doseage schedule. We can adjust it as needed during your next visit. Two weeks from now.” 

“Thanks, Melena,” John said, standing and helping Harry off the stone slab. “I need to talk to Melena for a sec, would you let Marie know we need an appointment for two weeks from?” Harry stood at the door for a moment, but he only heard, “We’re having a barbecue next Sunday to introduce Harry to some local people, you in? Great - and let Carson know when you see him, would you?” So he went out to relay the message to Marie.

A few minutes later, John came out and paid Marie, accepting another card with an appointment. 

“What’s an apothecary? And what’s vanishing sickness and the others?” Harry asked, as soon as they were back in the car. 

“An apothecary is where you go to get potions and ingredients. Sort of like a No-Maj pharmacist. As for the diseases… we can go to the library after Grandma leaves and look them up.” 

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Can’t you just tell me? Why do I have to do research?” 

“Not a fan of research?” 

“Ron doesn’t - I mean… I’m not very good at it,” he finally said.

“I can show you a few tricks - I did go Ilvermorny and college afterward,” John offered. 

Harry looked out the window. He really hated not knowing what adults expected of him. The Dursley’s would get angry if he did well, and the teachers got angry if he didn’t….

“Are we going to the apothecary?” 

John let him change the subject with only a raised eyebrow. Later, as they left the apothecary with the potions prescribed, a tinny sounding song started playing. Harry glanced around, but couldn’t see where it would be coming from, until John dug a strange black box out of his pocket. 

“Sheppard,” he said, while ushering Harry into the car. He leaned against the outside of the car and spoke for a minute. It was too muffled for Harry to hear properly, and he chanced turning the window crank just once, opening the window a crack. 

“...leave. No - I’ll hand off my cases, but I can’t come in... Family leave, like I said.” There was a long pause, before John said in a clipped tone, “Understood.” Then there was a snap, and he walked around the car to get in the driver’s side. Harry hastily rolled the window back up. 

“Hey, I have to go into the office for a bit. You’re welcome to come with, or I can drop you at home with Rodney.” 

“I thought you didn’t have to work?” 

“I just need to hand off my cases,” John explained, pulling out of the parking lot. ”We’ll drop the car at home and apparate - the parking’s terrible over by the office.” 

Harry considered this. He’d been sort of curious ever since John had told him an Auror was like a Muggle - er, No-Maj - police detective, which he had only seen on television. 

“Am I allowed?” 

“Sure, the others have brought their kids by to show them where they work,” John said more easily. Harry nodded, turning to look out the window to hide his conflicted expression.

They apparated, and Harry was too busy trying not to stumble to immediately realize they had landed back in Scarlet Market, at the far end of Germane Lane.

“The fastest way is through here,” and John led him down a wide covered walkway between C. Lagauterie and the outside wall of the lane. At the end was an archway that a car could pass through. He could see people walking and cars going by. They were right off of a busy street[5]. Harry frowned. “I thought -“ 

“Can’t apparate directly into the Division,” John explained. “This area is spelled to keep No-Majs from noticing anything.” 

They walked through the arch, and Harry glanced back to see it looked like a regular brick wall with a drain spout running down the middle. The only thing to mark the spot was a small plaque that read “Germane Lane Entrance”. 

“How do you get back in?”

“Walk straight through the wall at the plaque,” John said.

“Oh, like Platform 9 ¾,” Harry said. 

They walked to the corner and turned uphill, passing a white stone and brick building with arched windows and doorways. John stopped at the far corner of the building.

“This is it,” John said. He gestured for Harry to follow him down the tiny street - more of an alley, next to the building. The wall next to them was painted gray and had graffiti all over it - Harry thought he recognized a rune or two in the mix. 

“We’re on the third floor,” he said. Harry blinked. Looked up again. The building clearly only had a ground and first floor. He opened his mouth to ask, but John put a hand on his shoulder, urging him toward the wall. Harry blinked, and then he was through. Wizards really liked hiding doors in walls, he realized.

Inside was a dimly lit, claustrobic stairwell, that they went up and up. Someone had spelled windows on the exterior walls, but they weren’t showing the alley they’d apparated into. Instead they were of a sandy beach with the ocean at sunset on the ground floor, then a snowy mountain range, and an aerial view of a city on the top floor. Harry frowned, looked down through the stairs. “But- how?” 

“From what I was told, the top floor was damaged in the 1906 earthquake. Since it was going to be torn down, the whole floor was warded and then fixed up for use by the Auror Division.” 

“You can make a whole floor of a building invisible?” Harry asked incredulously. 

“Back then it was illegal to fraternize with No-Majs, so there are a lot of warded buildings like this.”

At the top of the stairwell was a plain metal door. John tapped the door in a pattern, and with a groan, the door opened inward. 

Bright lights and noises spilled out into the stairwell. Harry stuck close to John’s side as they walked through the doorway. The room they entered was far larger than the building below, and Harry blinked around the room in astonishment. Small papers flew back and forth across the room. There were a few doors along the far wall, but the rest was all open, with desks arranged in pairs around an open space in the middle. There was a large circle in the middle, with whiteboards set up behind it, each with photos of people’s faces and things like ‘last seen at bridge’ and ‘motive: revenge?’ written on them. 

John led him over to a desk, across from a man with neat brown hair wearing a uniform. The uniform was dark blue, with patches on the shoulders and collar.

“Lorne,” John said, and the other man shot to his feet. 

“Shep? What are you doing here?” 

“Cap says I need to hand off my cases officially,” John said, digging through the drawers of his desk and pulling out several manilla folders. “This is Harry, Harry, this is my Auror partner, Lorne.”

“Hi,” Harry said, with a small wave. 

“Hi,” Lorne said back. Then he picked up a box on his desk and opened it, holding it out to Harry. “Cookie?” 

“Um…” Harry said, glancing at John, who smiled and nodded. “Thanks,” he said, taking one. 

“Gotta talk to the boss. You mind hanging with Lorne for a minute?” John asked. 

Harry looked at Lorne, who smiled at him. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. He sat in John’s desk chair and ate the cookie in neat bites. It was really quite good. When he looked up, he flinched. There were two more people standing around him now, a woman with reddish blonde hair and scary smile, and dark skinned man who grinned in a very friendly way. 

“Hey!” The woman said. 

“Cadman,” Lorne said in a warning voice. “Don’t scare the kid.”

“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Aiden. Everyone here calls me Ford,” he said, holding a hand out. Harry shook it politely. 

“Hi,” Harry said. “I’m Harry.”

“Another nephew?” Cadman asked Lorne. 

“This is Shep’s cousin,” Lorne said. “He-“ he was interrupted by a shout from the office John had disappeared into. Harry jolted upright. 

“Ford! Cadman! Get in here!” A tall wizard with short gray hair and an annoyed expression shouted from the door of the office. Both of them hurried away, with a quick good-bye to Harry. 

“Is John in trouble?” Harry asked. 

“Hm? No, the Captain’s just grumpy,” Lorne said with a small smile. “He’s been wanting to retire for years.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Harry asked, interested despite himself.

“I hear he’s waiting to train up a good successor,” Lorne said. “Besides, he’s only eighty, he’s got plenty of retirement years left.” 

“Eighty?” Harry said in a hushed voice. Then the office door opened again, and John, Cadman and Ford came out. The other two hurried over, stopping at another set of desks nearby and began arguing almost immediately. John paused in the doorway, said something and nodded, before closing the door and heading back over. 

“Ready?”

Harry jumped up and nodded. 

“Cool. Lorne, barbecue next Sunday?”

“I’ll bring dessert,” he said with a salute. 

“Cadman? Ford?” 

“Yes, sir!” Ford said, grinning. 

“I’ll bring the explosions,” Cadman said, with an evil grin. 

“Merlin,” John said, shaking his head and moving to the door. “Try not to traumatize Rodney this time.” 

“No promises!” She called after them. 

They went back through to Germane Alley, and John paused before the Apparition Alcove. “We’ve got some time to kill, any ideas?” 

Harry tried to think of what he normally did over the summers at Privet Drive. Chores and roaming the streets to avoid Dudley and his gang probably weren’t acceptable answers. 

“Um, lunch? And… is there a park around?”

John smiled widely. “I know just the place.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 [Bank of Lucas, Turner and Company](https://noehill.com/sf/landmarks/sf026.asp), 800-804 Montgomery Street at Jackson [Back]


	7. Chapter 7

The house was empty when they returned. Even Tevildo was gone from his customary spot on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Harry was glad for that, else he might have face planted on him when he stumbled into the house and on to the sofa, still dizzy from the last rollercoaster combined with the long apparition home. He collapsed sofa face first, then struggled to roll over, staring up at the ceiling sleepily. John snickered as he followed him inside. 

“Fun?” 

“Fun,” Harry agreed, and yawned widely. They’d stuffed themselves on fair food, then gone on all the rollercoasters. He really wanted to try that flip upside down and backwards on his broom. John reached a hand down and hauled Harry to his feet. 

“Grandma will be here in about an hour, if you want to get a nap in,” he reminded Harry. “She’ll probably want to look in your room and ask you lots of invasive questions.”

Harry flinched, and John gave him a concerned look. 

“You don’t have to answer the questions,” he assured Harry. “She’s a bit pushy, but she means well. She practically raised me after my mother died.”

“I’ll be polite,” Harry promised, escaping to his room when John gave him another worried look. He quickly began picking up his discarded clothes. “What do I do with my laundry?” He called. 

“Just toss it in the bathroom hamper, it does the laundry,” John shouted back. Harry did so, looking down into the depths curiously. Nothing happened, so he shut the hamper and it made a noise like a vacuum. As soon as it stopped, he opened the hamper back up and discovered it was empty. Worried, he crept back out to the living room. 

“They disappeared,” Harry said wincingly. “Did I do it wrong?” 

John looked over from where he was using his wand to vacuum long black kneazle hairs from the couch, brow furrowed. “What - oh, no, you’re fine. The spell should send them back to your room. Check your dresser.”

When he ran back to his room, his clothes were sitting on his dresser, smelling of laundry soap and neatly folded. “Brilliant!”

He put the clothes away, grinning, then, with some difficulty as it was six feet off the ground, neatened his bed. He looked around his room again. It was clean, so he went back out to the kitchen, where John was peering in the refrigerator. 

“Is there a spell that makes your bed?” 

“Sure, I’ll teach it to you once you get your wand permit,” John said. “Teyla had her assistant check in with the permit office for me and they said it should be here tomorrow.” 

“Brilliant! My room’s clean… ” 

“Not tired?” Harry shook his head quickly. “Alright. I’m going to start dinner...” John opened the fridge wider in mute invitation and Harry peered inside at shelves of food. “How do you feel about lasagna?” 

“Um… what is it?” 

“Do you like pizza?” 

Harry shrugged. “Never had it.”

“Okay, nevermind. We’re having pizza. How do you feel about mushrooms?” 

Harry made a face. He’d eat them but not if he had other options. 

Around them, the kitchen was stirring to life, bowls and pots dancing down from the shelves, and flour and other ingredients pouring themselves. A block of cheese began grating itself, while a bunch of tomatoes were chopped up really small and dumped into a pot on the stove.

“This part will take about ten minutes or so. You want to help put the toppings on? We’ll do a bunch of mini pizzas so you can try out different toppings.”

Harry nodded, content to watch dinner assemble itself. Seeing magic used for normal stuff was a bigger thrill than the stuff they did in class. Magic wasn’t just floating feathers, and transfiguring tortoises into teapots, but practical stuff like fixing up his bedroom and cooking food and cleaning. Even the stuff Harry was pretty sure would take years to learn, like making the back yard into a Quidditch pitch. 

Maybe he ought to spend more time on his schoolwork, after all. 

“Could we go to the library tomorrow?”

John gave him a strange look. “If you want. But we can go after Moriko’s party, or pretty much anytime next week.”

“Oh!” Harry said, having forgotten all about the invitation in the excitement. “Should I get her a present?” 

“If you’d like, but you did just meet her yesterday. And Rodney and I got her a present, already.” 

“But… wouldn’t it be polite?” Harry asked, twisting his fingers. He didn’t want his first new friend to think he was rude. Maybe that was why Ron and Hermione had never written him. 

“Maybe you’ll find something at the festival, there’s usually a few booths set up,” John said, ruffling his hair. Harry wrinkled his nose and patted it back into place. 

Tevildo wandered in when John started getting the ingredients together, and John gave the Kneazle a bit of smoked salmon, which pleased him so much he came over to stand by Harry and watch the proceedings, occasionally nudging Harry’s knee and meowing pitifully until Harry snuck him a bit more. 

Rodney came home as they were putting the toppings on the pizza crusts, and stepped into the kitchen to steal some pepperoni. He was covered in white dust and had ink all over his hands. 

“How was your day?” John asked with a smirk. 

“I deal with imbeciles, how do you think?” he grumbled in response. 

“Did you get it?” John asked. 

“Of course I did,” Rodney said, sounding offended, and stole a slice of ham before stomping off.

“What was he supposed to get?” 

“It’s a surprise,” John said with a grin. “You’ll find out tomorrow.” 

Before Harry had a chance to inquire further, there was a loud ringing noise, a ‘whoomph!’ of flames, and then someone called, “Hello the house!”

“That’s Grandma Poinsettia,” John said in a fond voice, then called, “In here!” 

Harry shuffled back against the counter and stuffed his hands in his pockets as a tall woman with short silver hair and a bright red sweater peeked into the kitchen. She looked straight at Harry with familiar green eyes, and smiled brightly, took three more steps, and swept Harry into a tight hug that lifted him right off his feet. Harry froze, staring wide eyed over her shoulder at John. John took a step forward. 

“Grandma, come on, don’t attack the poor kid,” he said. 

She made a rude noise, but put Harry down, crouching down and smiling up at him. “Oh, you look so much like your mother,” she said, squeezing his hands. Harry blinked. Most people immediately told him he looked exactly like his dad. “Great-Grandmother Poinsettia is such a mouthful, just call me GG or GG Poinsettia, okay?” she told him. 

Nodding obediently, he glanced at John, who winked and flicked his wand. A moment later an alarm started beeping, and his great-grandmother jumped to her feet and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. John slipped Harry a stack of plates and silverware and sent him to set the table. He could hear them arguing about what to put on the pizzas as he slowly set out the place settings. Rodney’s voice joined in after a few minutes. 

Once Harry was done, he felt a bit steadier, and gathered his courage before going back to the kitchen. 

“And that is why ham is in all ways superior to sausage,” Rodney was telling GG in a triumphant voice.

“You are completely wrong, and here’s why -” she broke off when she saw Harry. “We’ll let Harry decide,” she said, raising her eyebrows and smirking at Rodney. 

“Um…” Harry said, taking a step back. 

“You’re both wrong, pepperoni is the best topping,” John said, distracting them neatly, and then shooed them out of the way so he could take the pizzas out of the oven. He sent them winging into the dining room. “Come on, I’m starving.”

They settled around the table, and once everyone had food, GG turned to Harry. “So, how do you like living with John and Rodney, so far?” 

Harry froze with a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. “Um… it’s good,” he said. “We went to the rollercoaster park, um,” he glanced at John, who supplied, “Great America.” Harry nodded. 

“Of course, I have another adrenaline junkie in the house,” Rodney scoffed. “He went surfing with that one, too,” he pointed at John. “And they both fly like maniacs.” 

GG grinned. “You like flying? John was a chaser for the Shawmut Settlers for a few years out of Ilvermorny, you know.” 

“Really?” Harry asked. “That’s brilliant!” 

“It was minor league Quidditch,” John said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have made it on a major league team.” 

“Nonsense!” and “False modesty,” were the responses from GG and Rodney, and they paused and eyed each other. 

“Your dad was a chaser for his house team, if I’m remembering correctly,” GG added. Harry listened, enthralled as she warmed to her subject, telling him everything she could remember about his dad and mum, not even remembering to eat, until Rodney nudged his elbow and nodded at his plate.

John asked a few questions about a cousin with a new baby, and GG produced photos from a voluminous purse, passing them around the table. The baby was very wrinkled and red, and Harry looked at it askance. It sort of looked like a tiny old man. 

“Do all babies look like that?” he blurted out. 

Rodney snickered. John coughed, hiding his mouth with his napkin. GG frowned. “Just wait until I find _your _baby pictures, young man.” Then she grinned. “Actually, I might have some of John’s in here -” 

“Guess what?” John interrupted. “We went to the zoo, and Harry got an invite to Moriko’s party.” 

Harry looked at GG, and when he saw genuine interest, he nodded, and added, fast with nerves, “And we saw hinkypunks and grindylows, and an occamy, and I talked to the runespoor and the boomslang - though it wasn’t much for conversation, and - ” 

“He’s a parselmouth,” John cut in to explain, and GG Poinsettia nodded, and gestured for him to continue. He did, and the retelling lasted until they’d eaten their fill of pizza. John sent the leftovers back to the kitchen.

“While you’re here,” John said to GG. “I’d like you to take a look at something.” Harry followed them into the sitting area, where John produced the trunk he’d summoned from the Dursley’s attic. 

“You can take it home to study,” John said, as they dug through the trunk. He levitated the letter over to the coffee table so she could examine it without touching. Rodney moved across from here. 

“It looked like a blood binding charm to me,” he said, leaning in to examine the letter. Harry’s attention was drawn back to the trunk when John held a blanket out to him. 

“Don’t worry, it’s clean,” he told him, misinterpreting Harry’s look of surprise. 

“This was mine?” Harry asked, holding the blanket to his chest. Upon closer inspection, he found tiny golden snitches flitting around the border of the blanket. Then movement caught his eye, and he leaned forward to see the cover of a familiar Transfiguration book. Draping the blanket over his arm, he knelt down and peered into the trunk. 

“Old textbooks,” John said. “Notes… oh, hey.” He leafed through a small stack of photographs, before handing them to Harry. 

The one on top was of his mum, an older girl who must have been Aunt Petunia, and John about Harry’s age, along with a younger boy, all crammed on a loveseat with Christmas stockings in their laps. The next was his mum and John a few years younger, frosting cookies in a yellow painted kitchen with great concentration. There were two women in the background. Then one with Lily sitting in the branches of a tree with Petunia and the same woman from the last photo holding up a toddler he guessed was John.

The last was a posed photo of teenaged Petunia and Lily, standing behind a couch with an older couple he recognized as his grandparents, and the other woman, who he realized looked a bit like his grandfather. John was crammed between them and the woman had the same kid as the first photo in her lap.

John looked over his shoulder, pointing at the woman with the child on her lap. “You probably recognize the others, but the kid is my little brother Dave, and that was my mom, Dahlia.”

“Are there any more?” Harry asked, poking through the detritus at the bottom of the trunk. 

“Doesn’t look like it. But I’ll ask the family to make copies of any photos they have for you, okay?” 

Harry nodded, holding the photos carefully. “Can I have these for my album?” he asked.

“Sure,” John said, nodding. Harry stood to carry his blanket and the photos to his room. Behind him, he heard GG sigh loudly. 

“Without examining the ritual or the wards, I really can’t discern anything else,” she said. 

“That’s what I said,” Rodney said, sounding annoyed. Harry considered briefly, standing in the hall to listen in, but… he thought he could probably ask them about it later, and they would tell him. He went to his trunk to stow the blanket, then after some deliberation, chose the photo of his mum and John decorating cookies to set on his nightstand, tucking the other two into empty spaces of his album. 


	8. Chapter 8

That night, long after John and Rodney had gone to sleep, Harry James Potter lay awake in his room, counting down to midnight. He thought back over the last two days, still a bit not sure how to feel about them. His aunt and uncle had died. He’d been brought all the way to America by a mysterious family member, and discovered even_ more _family, and given lots of toys and clothes, and his own room, and as much food as he wanted. 

It was rather like some of his childhood fantasies. 

The clock ticked over, and Harry smiled. “Happy Birthday to me…” Right as he’d finished the song, there was a tapping on his window, and Harry looked up and scrambled to open the window, beaming as Hedwig swooped inside, carrying a very bedraggled letter. She pecked his hand in punishment. 

“I’m sorry, I would have waited for you to get back if I could,” Harry apologized. He showed her the new, larger and magical cage set up next to the window John had bought for her. “See, it’s bigger on the inside so you can stretch out. And the window has these runes, so whenever you want to go out, it’ll open automatically!” 

Hedwig checked out her new cage while Harry looked at his letter. It was torn on one edge, and there was even a bit of blood on it, but it was there, and very clearly in Hermione’s handwriting. 

Dreading a bit what it might say, he tore it open quickly. 

_Harry, _

_You haven’t responded to any of my other letters, but Hedwig showed up this morning, so I’ll try one last time. Ron said he hasn’t heard from you either. Please just let us know if you’re -- _

The rest of the letter was torn off. Harry blinked in confusion. She hadn’t gotten any of his letters? She had written him? Ron had written him? He looked at his owl, who was devouring her food, and shook his head. He’d never had a problem with Hedwig delivering mail before…

He brightened. He’d ask John - he was an Auror, and the letter was all torn up, with blood on it! Maybe he could find out what happened. And Harry could send a letter back to them both. Somehow, without the same thing happening… he would have to see if they could find a phone number for Hermione. 

He stood, then remembered it was after midnight. Reluctantly, he climbed into bed and stuck the letter under his pillow for safekeeping. 

Harry woke to the smell of bacon, and a loud ringing noise, almost like a telephone. Then someone tapped at his door. “I’m up, Aunt Petunia!” he said automatically, then froze, before scrambling out of bed and yanking open the door. John was on the other side, face blank, before he smiled. 

“Morning, kiddo. Just a warning - the family invaded,” he said. “If they get to be too much, let me know, and I’ll kick them out.” 

“Um...” Harry blinked, then registered exactly what John had said. “Oh - um, I should - change?” he asked. 

“You’ll need the armor,” John agreed. Harry tore back into his room and changed as fast as he could. Hedwig’s cage was empty, and for a moment Harry thought her return and the letter was all a dream, but he found the torn letter under his pillow. He stuffed it into his pocket. 

John was still waiting at his door when he finished, and Harry followed him down the hall. He stopped at the doorway to the kitchen to watch for a moment. A spatula was flipping pancakes, _by itself_, and a plate of bacon floated into the dining room, followed by a pot of coffee. In the sink, the dishes were washing themselves, and as he watched, an egg timer dinged, before jumping in the air and dinging loudly until John shot a spell at it. That would never get old.

“I love magic!” he said, grinning. 

“Come on, this way,” John said, grinning back. Harry followed, almost tripping from looking over his shoulder. He froze when he saw the dining area, which was twice as big as it had been yesterday. The table had been extended, too, and there were a dozen chairs down each side of it, all of them filled with people. They ranged from one woman who looked as old as Dumbledore, with snow white hair and a small smile, to a baby with a shock of red hair, and practically every age in between. The only one he recognized was GG Poinsettia, who put a finger to her lips. 

“Happy Birthday!” They shouted. Harry would have fallen if John hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

“Pumpkin juice,” Rodney said in greeting, pointing at a glass on the table. “Tea, other strange British foods,” he said, gesturing at the empty chair next to him, with a plate full of toast and eggs and sausage and tomatoes and kippers set in front. When Harry didn’t move, Rodney glared down the table at the strangers. “See!” 

The oldest lady got to her feet. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Harry. I know all of us is overwhelming, but we were so excited, we couldn’t wait. I am Marigold Evans, your Great-Great-Grandmother. My younger daughters, Chrysanthemum and Aster,” she added, pointing out two other older ladies sitting near GG Poinsettia. 

“Let the boy eat, Mother,” Poinsettia scolded. “We can do introductions while he opens his presents.” 

“P-presents?” Harry said, looking up at John. John nodded and pointed - Harry followed his gaze, and his mouth dropped open at an absolute mountain of gifts piled up on the coffee table and spilling over to the couch. 

“Come on,” John whispered, aiming him at the empty chair. Then louder, “We’ve got muffins, and pancakes, coming,“ as the aforementioned foods levitated out of the kitchen and settled on the table to join the plates full of bacon, eggs, toast and bowls of fruit. 

John took the other chair next to him, and Harry felt a little better, bookended by the two adults he knew. 

The next half hour was nerve wracking, with people talking over each other, calling questions and shouting introductions down the table. Finally everyone had eaten enough, and the serving platters were banished back to the kitchen. 

John stood up and disappeared after him, returning a moment later with a humongous cake, frosted grass green, with miniature Quidditch hoops and a whole team of tiny quidditch players flying overtop. Across the field, it said, “Happy 12th Birthday, Harry!” Harry stared, quite speechless. There was another chorus of, “Happy Birthday!”, before one of the younger kids starting singing the birthday song, with everyone else chiming in. Harry flushed and shrank in his chair. Everyone was smiling and staring at him. 

“Th-thank you,” Harry stammered, after the song was down. The cake settled down on the table in front of him. Another swish of John’s wand, and the mini Quidditch players landed on the field, and an even dozen birthday candles took their place, floating in a complicated pattern. 

“No cake unless you can blow out all the candles,” one of the kids shouted. Harry nodded seriously and knelt up in his chair, trying to catch the candles as they danced over the cake. 

“Just be glad it’s only twelve,” Rodney told him seriously. “I had to catch twenty six on my last birthday before this jerk would let me have any cake.” 

“You did the same thing to me!” John shot back. Everyone else began calling out advice on how to best blow out the candles. By the time he’d managed to catch them all, Harry was breathless and giggling. Generous slices of cake were sent around the table, plus the kids all got a candy quidditch player, and Harry somehow managed to eat all of his, even after his breakfast. 

The Grandmothers got everyone moving, throwing cleaning charms at faces and hands and shooing them over to the coffee table, where they directed a fast procession of various people handing over gifts with quick introductions, before leaving via Floo. GG Poinsettia was last, and hugged Harry tightly. 

“Happy birthday, my dear. We’ll see you tomorrow,” she ordered, looking sternly between Harry and John. 

“Yes, Grandma,” John said. She left in a plume of green flames, and Harry collapsed on the sofa, still clutching the last gift. 

“It’s always like that,” Rodney said. “My family is much more sensible-“ 

“Smaller doesn’t equal sensible,” John shot back, slumping back into the armchair. “What do you want to do first today? The library? If you want to go surfing, we’ve got about an hour left of good waves, or we can go in the evening. Or we can go to one of the Alleys first. We’ve got to be done by noon, though, I’ve got tickets for the quidditch, and they’re on at one.” 

Harry froze under their attention. “Um…” 

“We can do all of them, or just one or two, or nothing at all. It’s your birthday, so you pick,” John said encouragingly. “We do have to go to the festival tomorrow, and then we’ve got Moriko’s party Sunday, so we’ll want plenty of rest tonight.” 

“...I’d like to go to a Quidditch game. If you would put a glamour on me again,” Harry added hastily. 

“Cool,” John said, then flicked his wand, and all the presents floated off towards Harry’s room. “We’ll go through them later, and make a list for thank you notes,” he said. A moment later, a small, brightly colored package, with a manilla envelope stuck to the top floated over. Harry stared, mouth open, as it settled in front of him. He looked up at John, then Rodney, who made an impatient noise. 

Harry peered inside, and found a bit of parchment. It said, _IOU one birthday present_, and Harry looked down at the present on the table, a bit confused. 

“From me,” Rodney said. “You can pick something out when we go to Tangent Alley - summer isn’t an excuse to stop learning,” he lectured, for a moment sounding almost exactly like Hermione.

Harry nodded, speechless. 

“There was something else in that envelope,” John said. “But if you’d rather wait-“ 

“You should definitely open it,” Rodney interrupted. 

Harry bit his lip. He was pretty sure there were enough presents waiting in his room to satisfy _Dudley._ He opened the envelope again, and drew out a second, smaller envelope, which contained a folded piece heavy paper, and a small laminated card. 

_Dear Mister Potter, _

_We are pleased to inform you of your eligibility for a Magical Focus Permit. The rules and laws of magic use are listed below. _

_Sincerely, _

_Taddeusz Dobyzynski_

_Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Foci_

_West Coast Branch, MACUSA_

Below that was a very long list in very tiny print. Harry looked at the small card, which looked a bit like a library card, only it had his wand type printed on it, along with a tiny photo of himself, his height, eye color, and wand arm. 

“Can I-?” 

“Go ahead,” John said, and Harry raced to his room, dodging the pile of presents to swipe at the rune to unlock his trunk and grab his wand. He ran back, and then stopped flat in the living room. “_Wingardium Leviosa!_” The coffee table rose in the air, a bit shakily, and Harry beamed. He levitated it back to the floor, where it hit with a thump, and quickly cast a repairing spell on the chip on the leg.

“Sorry!” He said quickly. 

“No big deal,” John said with a small smile. 

“Good spread, decent executions - do they teach you the tongue-tying jinx in 1st Year Defense?” Rodney asked. 

“Interrogate him later,” John said. 

“Yes, fine - now, open John’s present,” Rodney instructed. Harry blinked up at him, but obediently set aside the IOU. The gift was large and square, and covered in green paper with golden snitches zooming across it. After some impatient noises, he tore it open, then opened the box inside. On top was a snitch, and Harry held it up with a grin. 

“Wicked! Can I use it here?” 

“Yep. It’s charmed to stay in the backyard.”

Harry beamed. The box wasn’t empty though, and Harry drew out a sweatshirt for the West Coast Quidditch League, a red baseball cap with _Seeker _emblazoned on the front, and a pair of Quidditch gloves. Then he realized he was almost shoulder deep in the small box with still more presents inside, and gave the two adults a startled look. 

“Expansion charms,” John said, a bit sheepishly. “Just think of it as eleven years of missed birthdays, okay? But there is one thing in there, not technically from me, but you should have it.” 

He reached into the depths of the box and pulled out another box, wooden with carvings of runes around the edges. There was a latch with no lock on the front. It looked a bit like a small jewelry box, and Harry gave them a confused look. 

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to say the password to open it,” John said. “It’s ‘open sesame’, right now, but you can change it.” 

“Open sesame,” Harry said, and the box clicked open. On top was a packet of letters tied together with string, and, when he lifted those up, a bunch of neatly labeled vials full of gray, misty stuff.

“The letters your mom sent me and GG over the years,” John said. “The vials are memories.” 

“Memories?” Harry asked, forcing the words through his dry mouth. 

“Copies of memories. You can put them in a pensieve and then watch them, or let other people watch them. Everyone contributed one of your mom, and Lily sent my mom a couple memories of her wedding, and you as a baby, which are in there, too,” John added. 

Harry swallowed, and ducked his head to wipe his eyes quickly. “Thanks,” he said thickly. 

“Do you want to watch one now?” 

“Can I - later? I - I still want to go to Tangent Alley and, and the game you said,” Harry said, throat tight. He was afraid if he thought too much about it, he might start crying. 

“Of course,” Rodney said. “It’s your birthday, you get to choose the… entertainment,” he said, wrinkling his nose very slightly. Harry ducked his head and smiled before hugging them both tightly. 

“This has been the most brilliant birthday of my life,” Harry told them. 

“Not over yet, kid,” John said, ruffling his hair and hauling him to his feet. “Come on, you need to get your gear on for the game!” 


	9. Chapter 9

“Pull up!” Harry shouted, then winced as the rival seeker plowed into the ground after a successful Wronski Feint. Rodney was ignoring the game, reading something in a small magazine, but John was shouting along with the crowd as the Selkies’ Beater got into an airborne fist fight with the Flyers’ Seeker. It took several minutes for the game officials to drag the two players apart, and both were sent out, with reserve players brought in before play resumed. 

“There’s the snitch,” Harry said, pointing with his hot dog at where a glint of gold hovered off by the scoreboard. 

“Good eyes,” John said, clapping him on the back of his new SF Flyers’ sweater. “Oh - yes!” The Flyers’ chaser trio had scored two goals in quick succession on the Selkies’, putting them at a chance to win, if their seeker could only catch the snitch. 

“She’s seen it,” Harry said, jumping to his feet to see over the crowd. 

“The Selkies’ reserve seeker is fairly good, though,” John said, sounding worried. Rodney snorted. They ignored him. “He’s right on her tail.” 

“He’s following her, I don’t even think he sees it,” Harry disagreed, and then they both jumped up as the Selkies’ scored a goal, seconds before the Flyers’ seeker caught the snitch. 

There was a roar of noise as the crowd hollered and shouted in victory around them. Harry cheered with them. 

“Yes, they won by ten points,” Rodney said acerbically, during Harry and John’s third play by play of the game. “Clearly either their chasers or their keeper were subpar. Now, are we going?” He gestured at the fireplace ahead of them, finally at the head of the line for the Stadium Floos. 

“The address is Taraval House,” John told Harry. “Make sure you say it very clearly,” he cautioned, before they stepped back to let Rodney go ahead. “Now you- I’ll be right behind you.” 

Harry gave the fire a very dubious look, but accepted a dash of powder, flung it on the flames, and stepped forward - then choked on a cloud of smoke as he tried to speak. He was flung upward and outward, and he could see flashes of daylight as he traveled, until finally, an arm reached in just as he was passing and plucked him out of the fireplace. Harry bent over coughing, and a hand thwacked him firmly on the back. 

“Drink,” a familiar voice said, and then a glass was being pressed into his hands. He drank the water greedily, until Rodney pulled him away from the floo, where John, pale and worried climbed out. He immediately relaxed, seeing Harry, and squeezed his shoulder, then tousled his hair. 

“Good, I was worried for a moment there,” John said. “Okay?” 

Harry handed back the glass and wiped his face with his sleeve. “I’m alright. Rodney pulled me out of the fireplace just in time.” 

John only nodded, and then cast several spells which made the feeling of tightness in Harry’s chest go away, made his face go tingly, and cleaned all the soot off his clothes and glasses. Then Harry yawned hugely. 

“Tired? Why don’t you have a nap, and then we can start on the presents. Anything special you want for supper?” 

“Um… shepherd’s pie?” 

“Will do,” John said and Harry smiled sleepily and went down the hall to his room. As he left, he heard Rodney said something about, “the wards,” in a worried voice. 

His room was just as had left it, and he spent a moment picking up his clothes and to take to the hamper. When he straightened up, he froze in fear. There was a strange creature in his room, short and green, with huge, bat like ears, and eyes like tennis balls. 

“Dobby is here to warn Harry Potter -“ 

“John!” Harry shouted frantically flinging the dirty clothes at the creature. The door to his room opened only a few seconds later, but the creature - Dobby - had already disappeared. 

“What happened -“

“I told you, the wards -“ 

“I don’t know what it was, it disappeared!” Harry said, all three of them overlapping. 

“Can you describe it?” John asked. 

“Um, it was short, and green, and it had big ears and huge eyes, and it was skinny and wearing… um… it looked like a dirty tea towel,” Harry said, frowning, and hoping they believed him. Just saying it out loud made Harry doubt his own eyes. It sounded barmy! 

“House elf,” John said immediately.

“That explains the wards,” Rodney said. “I’ll add them to the list.”

“What’s a house elf?” Harry said quickly. John was casting spells around the room, and Rodney answered in a distracted fashion. 

“House elves are magical beings that are usually bound to a family. They cook and clean in exchange for magic. But they aren’t very common in North America- most of them are owned by old pureblood families in Europe, or at Hogwarts. In the kitchens,” he explained. 

“Why was it in my room? It said it was here to warn me about something,” Harry said. 

“It could be a prank from one of the kids you went to school with, or it might be something more serious. We’ll find out,” John promised. “Why don’t I stay here with you, until Rodney gets the wards fixed up. I’ll teach you a new spell you can use for defense.” 

Harry nodded shakily. He didn’t like that things could just pop into his room. John conjured a couple of bean bag chairs, and started showing him the wand movements to something called the “Bat-Bogey Hex”. 

“_Volatilis Lutum_[7]!” Harry shouted, and then punched the air when John staggered back, and a slimy green wing emerged from his nose. “_Finite_!” He cast, immediately. Then, a bit frantically, “_Finite Incantatem!”_ It worked that time, and John cast a quick spell to staunch the bleeding of his nose, giving Harry a thumbs up. 

“If you’re done beating each other up,” Rodney said, leaning in through the open door. “I’ve updated the wards - no more house elves on the property. But it could still get to you outside the house.” 

“So don’t leave the wards without one of us, okay?” John said. “Tomorrow, I’ll talk to the family and see if we can summon the elf and question it.” 

“For now, you better get started on the gifts - you know Chrysanthemum will not be happy if she finds out they haven’t been opened,” Rodney said. John made a comically dismayed face, summoning a piece of paper and a fancy pen, and the three of them sat. Harry opened the presents, with John reading off the tags and Rodney listing the contents for the list that was busily writing itself mid air. 

They had the promised Shepherd’s Pie when Moriko and her mom arrived for dinner, and leftover birthday cake for afters, then Moriko, John and Harry played with the snitch in the backyard, while Miko and Rodney sat below, both surrounded by computers and piles of books. Occasionally Rodney would shout at them to be careful. Well, it was more like, “Don’t be a moron!”, and, “You really can’t afford to lose the brain cells when you inevitably land on your head!”, but John explained what he meant. 

It wasn’t until Harry was changing into his pajamas that the tell tale crinkle of paper in his pocket reminded him of the letter. He hurried back out, finding John and Rodney both in the kitchen. Harry flushed hotly, and averted his eyes as they sprang apart. 

“Sorry,” he said, holding out the letter. “I just… I need your help,” he admitted. When he looked back up, John was reaching for the letter, and Rodney looked curious. “Hedwig came back last night, really late, and she had the letter. It was like that when I got it,” he added, as John tapped the smear of blood with his wand and muttered a spell. “You can read it,” he said. 

John did so, with Rodney reading over his shoulder. “Well, that’s new. The blood is creature blood. Why a house elf would attack your owl...” John shook his head. 

“I was going to ask about sending a letter back, but I thought it might not get through either,” Harry said, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Good call,” Rodney said. “Do your friends have access to a telephone?” 

“Um, Hermione’s Muggle - I mean, No-Maj-born, so she does, but I don’t know her number.” 

Rodney waved off that complication. “No problem, just tell me everything you know about her and her family, and I’ll track it down.” 

Harry swallowed, feeling his eyes sting unexpectedly. He was very unaccustomed to adults helping him. Adults actually _wanting _to help him was completely unprecedented, but neither of them had lied to him yet. With some probing questions from both Rodney and John, Harry managed to remember that Hermione lived specifically in Hampstead Heath, along with both of her parents being dentists in London. 

“Okay, we’ll start looking first thing. In the meantime, write out your letters, and we’ll get it to Teyla and have her send it out express - the elf won’t know to watch her mail. And tell your friends to send your letters back to her and she’ll get them to you.”

Relieved, Harry nodded and hurried into his room to write to Ron and Hermione. 

As Harry was folding up the letters, there was a knock on his door. It didn’t immediately open, and Harry was confused for a moment, before a muffled voice called, “Can I come in?” 

“Oh! Yes, you may!” Harry shouted out, grinning broadly. Rodney stepped inside and accepted the letters. 

“We’ll send these over tonight. Also - your word is mayday,” Rodney informed him.

“My… word?” Harry asked, thoroughly lost. 

“Tomorrow, when it gets too overwhelming, and you want to leave the festival - just tell me or John, ‘Mayday’.” 

“Really?” Harry asked. “Thanks,” he said, after Rodney gave him a look. “Um - can I ask a question?” 

“As long as I’m not in the middle of anything delicate, you can always ask.” 

“...what’s considered delicate?”

Rodney frowned and after a moment, listed on his fingers: “Potions, unless I say otherwise, when I’m in my study, drawing runes, or if I say not to bother me.”

“Okay,” Harry said, nodding and committing the list to memory. “Um, what’s Lugh… uh, Lughnasadh?” 

There was a short pause, then Rodney left the room. Harry sat back, a little confused. He was just about to shut the door and go to bed - he didn’t know any door shutting spells - when Rodney reappeared and shoved a small book at him, titled, _Celtic Celebrations or Wheel of the Year. _

“I don’t really care about things like that. The book will have a better answer.” He paused, then said in an awkward way, “Um, good night.” 

“Good night!” Harry said. “Thanks!” Rodney shut the door behind him, and Harry climbed into bed, settled down against his pillows, and opened the book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 Borrowed from the [ Mischief Managed Wiki](https://mmsl.fandom.com/wiki/Bat-Bogey_Hex). [Back]


	10. Chapter 10

August 1st dawned gray and hot. Harry woke early, after a restless night filled with dreams about sacrificing bulls, and falling down wells. 

There wasn’t time for surfing or anything more than a quick breakfast - the festival started at noon, Eastern time, which meant they had to catch their first portkey at seven in order to make it all the way to Massachusetts before then. 

On the plus side, Harry found a stuffed otter for Moriko’s birthday while they were stopping over for their next portkey in Denver. Rodney bought a giant cup of coffee and drank the whole thing in one go. 

Finally, the three of them landed in a large field, Rodney with a bag over his shoulder, all clutching a section of the broken bicycle chain portkey. 

“Is this it?” Harry asked, a bit woozily after three portkeys in a row. 

“Yep, this is it,” John said, dropping the chain into a basket that seemed to have provided for that purpose, based on the other random things already inside it. Around them, there were tents going up, and long tables with food, and a huge circle of stones with a steadily growing pile of wood for a fire. There was a wooden stage, and beyond the field, a forest of pine trees, and a great manor house made of dark stone, with the ocean off the cliffs behind it. 

“Welcome to Tiltaen Fields,” a warm voice said. 

“Nate,” John said in greeting, and shook the man’s hand. “Where are the crones?” 

“Up in the cooking tent,” he said, pointing. “Supervising,” he added, with a wince, and Rodney snorted loudly. 

“Interfering,” he corrected. “Right, let’s go find some fellow juveniles for you to bond with,” he said, then rummaged in the bag until he pulled out Harry’s broomstick and handed it over. 

Harry walked between Rodney and John, clutching his Nimbus 2000 tightly. They had given Harry a short rundown of what the festival would be like, so he knew that family and kids from the village had pick up games while the feast was being put together, but that didn’t make him less nervous. 

“Ivy!” John called. A girl of around seventeen with dark red hair and hazel eyes broke away from the pack of kids and grinned brightly. 

“Hi, John, Rodney - Harry, are you going to play? What position do you favor?” 

“Um… I’m the seeker for my school team,” he squeaked out. 

“Perfect! Come on,” she said, directing him towards the second of the two groups the pack had split into. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.” 

It was wonderful to be up in the air again with a team. Nothing more complicated than keeping an eye out for the score and the snitch. They had a full set of Quidditch balls, and Ivy’s mum, Peony Evans, had spelled all their clothes into red or blue depending on the team. All the red team were the Evans family, while the blue were all from the village. The beaters for the red team were Michael Evans, Ivy’s uncle, and Hyacinth Evans, one of Chrysanthemum’s granddaughters. Both of them were in their thirties, which was a bit scary for Harry, but there were older people on the other team as well. Ivy and her sisters, Salvia and Poppy, who were a few years older and the same age as Harry, respectively, played chasers, and the keeper was Amaryllis, Hyacinth’s younger cousin. 

The game was just for fun, and bragging rights until the next festival, but Harry didn’t want to disappoint his new found family, so he made sure to take it as seriously as if Oliver Wood were in the goal. 

The blue team was up forty to thirty, when a shout had Harry diving out of the way of bludger. Hyacinth went hurtling after it, and slammed it back toward one of the blue team’s chasers - but it stopped mid air and pulled an abrupt about face, then headed straight back for Harry. Hyacinth, luckily, was still nearby, and gave the bludger another great whack. But it wouldn’t be deterred, and even when Harry tried to dive or climb, it still came back like some sort of murderous homing pigeon. 

“It’s targeting Harry,” someone on the ground shouted, and Michael was already speeding over to help defend him from the rogue bludger.

“Time!” Hyacinth shouted. Everyone moved toward the ground, but even the key phrase didn’t stop the bludger, and this time Harry had to drop down twenty feet, wincing as it whistled over his head. By this time the adults on the ground had noticed something was wrong, and wands were out, casting shields and _impedimenta_ at the bludger, while all four beaters came over to surround Harry and take turns batting it back until he made it to the ground. 

“Finite - all at once!” Peony directed them, and after a second, a couple dozen voices shouted out, “_Finite Incantatem!_” 

The bludger dropped - well, like an iron ball that has abruptly lost its capability for flight. It hit the ground with an explosion of grass and dirt, but Harry didn’t see it - his vision was blocked by John, who was checking him over, and Rodney’s back, along with Michael and Hyacinth, who were all surrounding him. Harry let out a loud huff of relief, and sat down in the grass. John squeezed his shoulder gently. 

“Okay?” 

“It didn’t hit me,” Harry said, still a bit breathless. 

“What on magical Earth…?” Came the ringing tones of Poinsettia Evans. 

“The bludger went nuts and tried to kill Harry,” a voice Harry thought was probably Poppy. 

“Peony, John,” she said, and John hugged Harry once, quickly, then slid between the guards. Rodney followed, and he was quickly replaced by another man, that Harry thought was called George. 

“What’s happening?” Harry asked, peering through the gaps between the two men. 

“John and Peony are both Aurors - they’re going to check the bludger for tampering. Mum - Violet, that is - has already gone to call the local DMLE,” George explained. 

“Why?” 

Michael turned his head to look down at Harry. “Because someone tried to kill you,” he said, sounding a bit bemused. “We tend not to take family getting almost killed lightly.” 

Harry bit his lip, and clutched his broom tightly. “Can you tell me what’s happening now?” 

Hyacinth murmured a spell, then began talking quietly. “Rodney’s complaining because the ‘finite’ cleared all the magic traces of the bludger…. John’s being sarcastic… now, Peony and John are cordoning off the scene… Rodney’s trying to check for magical traces from the paths the bludger took - oh, he looks mad, his face has gone all red…” she trailed off, then said, “Uh-oh.” 

“Uh-oh,” Michael repeated. “Gran’s about to blow her top.” 

“Come on, kiddo, she wants us all together - they think they know what the culprit was,” George said, turning and offering Harry a hand up. They stayed around him like bodyguards for the walk, until they reached the big house, with more of the family bunched together around them. Harry felt bad that their whole festival had been disrupted because of him. But he also felt a bit strange. He thought it might be that no one had ever tried to protect him before. 

Once they’d all crossed the threshold of the giant front doors, they spread out a bit, and Marigold and her three daughters gathered in front of the crowd. 

“Harry, come up, please,” Poinsettia called. 

Harry startled. Then John was suddenly next to him, and Harry gratefully pressed against him to avoid the stares as they walked forward. More strangers came out of the next room, all wearing intimidating uniforms. 

“Captain Evans,” said the first one in the line, a young witch with a solemn expression that contrasted with her bright green hair. 

“We believe the culprit to be a rogue house elf,” Peony said. “Between us, we should be able to summon and subdue it long enough to get answers.” 

“Since it’s focus seems to be on you, we’ll need you to help summon it,” John told Harry. “But once that’s done, you’ll go behind the barrier, okay?” 

Harry frowned, then glanced over to where John was looking - Rodney was working with two other wix, furiously drawing on the stone floor, while an older woman corralled everyone out of the circle they’d begun. 

“A-alright… what do I have to do?” 

John explained as the others finished up the circle, then the strangers - the first was an Auror, and the others from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol - gathered around to keep a perimeter between the civilians and the runic circle. 

The Evans’ ladies stepped into the circle, as the matriarch and owners of the home they were in, and Harry with John as his guardian. 

“Dobby the house-elf,” Harry said, voice cracking. “Come to me.” He repeated it a second time, and then a third, before Marigold and her daughters took over. John took Harry by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shove out of the circle, where Rodney led him away. He missed what they said next as he was hustled away. 

Whatever it was produced a loud crack, and a desperate, high pitched wailing. Harry craned his head to look back and was stunned by Dobby’s appearance - he looked much worse than he had yesterday, and he hadn’t looked great, then.

Peony glared back as a few people gasped. “House-elf, you will explain yourself,” she said. “Name your binder.” 

“D-Dobby cannot,” the elf sniffled miserably. “Dobby will be punishing himself most severely already.” 

“What?” Harry gasped. Immediately Dobby peered around Peony, lamplike eyes staring at Harry. 

“Why have you attacked my family?” Marigold demanded. 

“Dobby is sorry!” Dobby wailed. “Dobby is protecting Harry Potter! Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!” 

Harry started to speak, but Rodney squeezed his shoulder and shook his head. 

“How are you protecting him by keeping him from Hogwarts?” Peony asked. 

“_There is a plot. A pilot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts this year,” whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. “Dobby has known it for months, miss. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, miss!”_[8](%E2%80%9D#plot%E2%80%9D)

“Can you tell us anything more?” Aster asked, voice a bit gentler. “Is there anyone involved you can speak of?” 

Dobby shook his head, wringing his hands. 

“Is it a curse?” A shake. “An artifact?” A trembling nod, and then Dobby immediately began bashing his head against the floor. 

“Dawkins, get someone from the Beings Department here, and then get in contact with the British Ministry and find out who this elf belongs to,” Peony said in an undertone, while the other women cajoled Dobby to stop hurting himself. “Be sure to warn them of the threat to the school.” 

“Yes, Captain,” one of the wizards said, saluting smartly and dashing out of the room. 

“Come on,” John said, suddenly in front of him, and pulled Harry away from the scene. 

“But - can’t we help him?” His question caused Dobby to go into paroxysms of praise for Harry’s kindness, and Harry felt his face get hot. 

“There are laws against enslavement here,” John said, raising a hand and waving someone over. “But it will depend on how much the British Ministry wants to cooperate - in their eyes, Dobby is property of whatever House he’s bonded to.” 

“That’s awful,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder at the elf. Then he shuddered for a different reason. “Is something bad really going to happen at Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll pass on the threat, and the British Aurors will investigate,” John said. Rodney joined them then, holding Harry’s broom and his bag. “Do you want to stay or head home?” 

“Don’t worry about ruining anything,” Rodney said, before Harry could apologize for just that. “They have four of these things a year, it’s fine.”

“And they’ll be back out to finish the bonfire and the feast anyway,” John said. 

“Bad luck not to,” an older wizard said smiling at Harry. “Besides, we caught the rascal that was causing all the issues.

After glancing at both Rodney and John to gauge their sincerity, Harry nodded. “I… I think I’d like to stay.” 

It took a bit for everyone to relax - a bit of time, and a bit of alcohol - but by mid afternoon, the festival was back in swing, only minus Peony, gone in her official capacity, and joined by several other Aurors guarding the area. They abandoned quidditch for American football, and Harry joined in for one of the kids’ flag matches after a very confusing explanation of the rules by John, who seemed to be an avid fan. 

“We’ll explain it,” Poppy finally said, as Harry grew more confused, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him away. Once they’d run themselves in exhaustion, massive quantities of food were had by all. 

As the sun went down, the bonfire was lit, and the kids played _lumos_ tag, until it was dark enough to set off an impressive display of magical fireworks. Harry lay down in the grass with the other children and watched, gasping and laughing whenever a particularly large explosion sounded. 

Once the show was over, Harry was collected by John and Rodney. He was so tired he was stumbling. After a few almost falls, John offered him a ride on his back, which Harry cautiously accepted, never having done so before. 

He nodded off against John’s shoulder, and didn’t wake until later, when John was settling him into an unfamiliar bed. 

“John?” He asked sleepily. 

“Yeah?” 

He wasn’t sure exactly how to say what he meant, so instead just said, “...thanks.” 

“Of course. Now, go to sleep already,” John said, smiling at him. Harry smiled back and drifted off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [8](%E2%80%9D#plot%E2%80%9D) Slightly edited quote from HP&tCOS.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning was hectic, all of them having to wake up far too early to go with Peony to the Auror Headquarters in New York, along with the MACUSA Director of Magical Security, Lauretta Hollingsworth. John kept Harry in the loop, explaining the British Ministry wasn’t disclosing Dobby’s owners, but also weren’t pressing to have the elf sent back, so right now he was in limbo, waiting for the Department of Magical Research to find the old rituals to free an elf, that hadn’t been used in over a century. He’d revealed a bit more information - the threat was related to Voldemort somehow, which had necessitated Harry explaining what happened during his first year at Hogwarts to the Aurors. He’d also been taught how to extract memories, too, to give them the proof the British Ministry was demanding over his claims. 

After they’d finished, they were due to take a portkey back to San Francisco, where it was still ten in the morning. Harry rubbed his eyes.

“Can I take a nap?” He asked. 

“Harry,” John said.

“Otherwise, I’ll be way too tired for Moriko’s party,” he added quickly. 

“Harry,” John said again, shaking his head slightly.

“I really can’t go back to Hogwarts,” Harry said slowly. He’d hoped maybe he’d be able to change John’s mind, or prove that it wasn’t dangerous, but he knew there was no way, now.

“I’m sorry,” John said. “But you can pick between the schools we talked about - you still have a few days.”

Harry ducked his head. “I’ll be the new kid,” he grumbled.

“You’ll be alive,” Rodney started, but John glared at him.

“If you go to Ilvermorny, all your cousins will be there,” he said. “And Moriko goes to Miss Verity’s, and so do Evan’s nephews.” 

Harry nodded slowly. He thought briefly of his friends at Hogwarts, but he hadn't heard anything back yet from the letters Teyla had mailed for him. 

And it might be nice without everyone always staring at him and calling him the Boy Who Lived. All the kids he’d met in America didn’t know anything about him, and neither did a lot of the adults.

Plus, it would be novel to stay with family that actually wanted him around. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, slumping. “I reckon I’d rather go to the local school. If you don’t mind me being here,” he said quickly. 

“That was actually my preference,” John said solemnly. Harry felt his eyes start watering, and he darted forward, hugging John tightly, before dashing into his room. 

It was halfway through August when an owl arrived at their hotel in Toronto with a packet of letters for Harry. The note attached to the front of the packet was from Peony: 

_Dear Harry, _

_Attached are the letters Dobby prevented from reaching you. We’ve just broken his bindings, and he’s currently being questioned. After that, he’ll be rehabilitated by the Head of the American Domestic Elves Conclave. He won’t be bothering you again._

_Love, _

_Peony Evans_

“Wow,” Harry said quietly, as he untied the packet and spread the letters over the table. Quite a few from Hermione, nearly as many from Ron, and even a note from Hagrid and a letter from Neville. 

“Anything unexpected?” John asked, glancing over his coffee cup at the spread. 

Harry glanced through the pile - he’d already spoken to over the phone several times to Hermione and twice with Ron, who was still getting the hang of it. “A couple… oh - this one’s for you,” he said, handing a letter in Peony’s handwriting over to John. Harry sorted through his letters, opening them all to check the dates and read them in order. With some dismay he read Hermione get more despondent in her messages with his lack of response, and Ron’s steadily growing annoyance, though he had invited him to stay about a dozen times. Hagrid had only sent the one, likely because he hadn’t received a return letter, ditto for Neville, and the second to last was a worried missive from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, after they’d gone to Privet Drive and discovered the house empty, and informed Dumbledore. In turn, the very last note, much crumpled and stained, was message from Dumbledore himself. Harry didn’t open it. 

Both the last he moved to hand over to John, who was reading his own letter with a strange expression. 

“What’s wrong?” Rodney asked. 

John blinked up at them and smiled grimly. “The Head of the British DMLE is working with us on the threat to the school, but the Ministry is refusing to accept Harry’s testimony or his memories as proof that Voldemort’s not actually dead. And the school governoring board isn’t allowing an Auror presence, or a scan of the incoming items into the school for dark magic or curses, stating the right to privacy for the students.” 

“But - what if someone gets hurt?” Harry asked. 

Rodney and John exchanged looks, and Harry hunched his shoulders. He picked at the threads of his jeans, glancing up to watch their expressions while John read Dumbledore’s letter and Rodney read the Weasley’s, then swapped. When Rodney took Dumbledore’s letter, he scowled deeply. 

“Arrogant prick,” Rodney summed up. His jaw clenched hard, then, and Harry was pretty sure there was more to the letter than that. 

“He wants me to stay with - with Aunt Marge or something, doesn’t he,” Harry said in quiet voice. 

“Yes,” Rodney said flatly. “He’s nuts, obviously, but that’s what it says. It was a portkey,” he added, holding it out to John. 

Harry’s shoulders hunched and he crossed his arms over his stomach, suddenly wishing he hadn’t eaten such a big breakfast. He thought he might be sick. 

“Evidence, then,” John said, summoning a bag from his office, which Rodney dropped the letter into. When he turned back and saw Harry, his expression softened, and he said in a firm voice, “He’s not taking you away from us. We’ve got legal custody of you in both the UK and America, in both magical and No-Maj governments. If he tries, its kidnapping, and I’ll arrest him, alright?” 

“Or kill him,” Rodney mumbled. 

Harry lowered his gaze to the table. He was actually looking forward to starting school here, and now his old friends were going to be in danger without him. And no one else would do anything about it. 

There was a muffled noise of a silencing charm going up, and when Harry peeked through his fringe, he saw Rodney and John talking - arguing - silently behind the charm. Rodney seemed adamantly against, while John was gesturing and making his “Be reasonable, Rodney” face a lot. Finally, Rodney slumped, glaring before crossing his arms and saying a lot of things very fast, that John nodded to. A slice of John’s hand and the charm dissipated.

“Why don’t we see if your friends would like to visit? Maybe over Christmas break, or next summer,” John said. 

“Really?” Harry bounced to his feet and hugged John. “Brilliant!” 

“And I promise I will talk Peony into personally sending letters to every Hogwarts student warning them of the threat to the school, if the British Ministry isn’t going to do it,” he said in a lower voice. 

Harry beamed at him. 


End file.
